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My Dad Can't Read

My favorite book was called Too Many Lollipops. I had it memorized. I knew which words were on which page. It came out when I was four and I LOVED it. Every night my dad would read me stories, I'd climb up with an arm full of books into his recliner and onto his lap. He read me story after story after story, Clifford and Mr. Pine's Mixed Up Signs, Go Dog Go and any number of Dr. Seuss Books. Every night.


Until one night when he must have gotten bored with the books and he started to make up new stories as he'd go through the picture books. My eyes growing wide and not understanding what was happening. I went to Kindergarten the next day and announced that my Dad could, in fact, not read.


My mom got a call from the school offering resources in case he needed help to read. I giggle just thinking about it. My dad did not read much for himself but he was a perfectly fine reader, just bored with my books. He actually worked for the school district. I don't know if they found it as funny as I do now but even now I snort a bit as I think about what that must have been like for them.


Lordy.


As we celebrate the fourth birthday he isn't with us with all the crab you can eat, I look at pictures of him reading to the littles and know that he was making it up as he went along. I wonder if any of them think he can't read . . .


Miss you Papa! I'm making up the stories now!



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