My Mom taught Me to read and write for safety reasons

It occurred to me earlier today that I was a clutz.  Well, I kind of knew it, but sometimes we deny certain things about ourselves.  When I dropped my computer mouse in my coffee an hour ago – there was no more denial.  I liked that mouse.

For some reason I flashed back to childhood when my mom taught me to read.  Well, she taught me to love reading and getting lost in a good story.  Being the wise woman she still is, she might’ve been trying to save my limbs from disaster.  I still remember the first Nancy Drew book she put in my hands while I sat safely on the sofa surrounded by nice, soft pillows.  If I fell, no harm done. 

As I grew up, I used to sneak into her romance pile and read those wonderful love stories.  Sometimes I still feel like I’m getting away with something when I find myself lost in a steamy romance.  Then the day came when I was old enough we could pass books back and forth.  She gave me one of Nora Robert’s MacGregor stories – and I was hooked for life.  Remember those?

And now, my mom has read my book.  I asked her if she thought it was too steamy and she said that it was wonderful.  Then she said, “Oh my.”  🙂  So here’s to our moms:  When they ensured we survive childhood, they may also have given us the key to a happy adulthood.  Thanks, mom.

So question: Who taught you to read and what book do you most remember?