In the depths of my files I have a list of blog topic ideas. In an attempt to get both of my blogs moving again, I’ll be using some of those prompts in between regular posts and writing challenges. 

Can you remember what the first book read to you was?

I’ve told this story a lot.  I do remember my first book read to me, it was also my first book love – and the source of my first ever (remembered) nightmare (and true first clear memory, period).

I was two, maybe two and a half. I know this because I still slept in a crib. I remember where it sat in the room, (directly opposite the dormer window, next to the dresser).

The dream I had involved the book “Bongo“. I remember that I loved this book.  It was my absolute favorite book in the world.  I wanted to hear it again and again. I loved the pictures in it. To this day I can still picture my favorite pages of the book, even though I haven’t seen it in years.

In my dream I, for whatever reason things happen in dreams, tore that book to shreds.  Ripped it into pieces that were scattered all over my crib.

I woke screaming and crying so loud I think I scared the heck out of my parents.

After my Bongo nightmare I know that my book obsession only grew.  I was reading at the tender age of three (my Dad swears to this day that I would read the Readers Digest cover to cover at that age).  At the age of four I stole the Little House series out of my brothers room. In my defense my brother didn’t read…and really, who gave a boy the Little House Series anyway? (Sorry, Nana…I think it was you…)  After I stole those books from him a new reading obsession was born.  I read them through at age 4, and at least 18 more times before I graduated high school.

I still have the original Little House books, and have bought new versions to save my old ones from completely disintegrating – and in the hopes that at least one of my girls loves them as much as I have.