How well I remember sitting in my mom’s lap, leaning my back against her chest, her arms around me and her hands holding a picture book in front of me. Her voice made a story out of the pictures, weaving adventures from the squiggly black shapes on the page.
That’s how I wanted to read to my child. Long before she could walk, I would snuggle Lei on my lap and look over the back of her little head at the pictures, reading out loud the words on the page. She would sit for a few minutes, then get up and move away.
It was a tiny taser to my heart every time.