“Throughout his entire life, George had never discovered a pleasure more complete than reading to his daughter. Food did not go beyond taste and satiation, sex lacked intellectual rewards, but Holly’s bedtime had everything. There was, first of all, the sheer physical enjoyment of swaddling oneself in blankets. Then, too, the process brought out Holly’s adorable side, suppressing the whiny beast that lived in four-year-olds and fed on parental exasperation. And frequently the books themselves were pithy and provocative, the sorts of things an advertising executive might have written in a fit of scruple”
–This Is the Way the World Ends by James Morrow
Though the sentiment goes farther than I can follow it with the comparison to food and sex (sorry, bedtime stories just aren’t that fun), I thoroughly enjoyed this take on the joy of the bedtime story. For me, however, the biggest joy is usually that the child will soon be asleep, leaving me to read whatever I want.
Do you have fond memories of bedtime stories? Or if you’re a parent, do you read to your kid(s) every night?