Confessions of a Read-a-thon Grinch

Recently, my son’s school held a read-a-thon to raise money for a field trip. Every parent at the school looked forward to the big event. Every parent except me. And worse, I didn’t dare admit the truth. Shhhhh. I loathe read-a-thons.

I really do love reading with my children—at home by the fire in my comfy couch that is. Reading in a small room with thirty-seven others is less fun. It’s noisy. It’s cramped. Wearing pajamas to school adds another angle--humiliation. And then there's the menu--the dreaded green eggs and ham in honor of Dr. Seuss.

But this year was different. Someone gave me a bathrobe last Christmas. Hearing my son, Leif, read The Cremation of Sam McGee made me forget I was sitting on cold bricks. The eggs were colored with chlorophyll instead of food coloring. By lunch time, Leif had read over thirty books. He was so proud I almost forgot about the noise, the crowding, and my hard seat. Almost. But please don’t ask me to do it again next year.