Dads

My dad was the same. The caring part of parenting came from my mum. Dad saw his role as provider only. He was a very selfish man but he felt he was doing his duty. He would play games with us sometimes but only things he was interested in such as Monopoly and he never let us win.

My 'dad' was a violent, abusive, drunken, horrible man. The thought of him reading to or playing with us is laughable.

O Kate

I honestly don't remember either my mother or my father reading to me. I learned to read before I went to school and from then on, I devoured anything I could get my hands on. They both just encouraged me to read for myself.

Mum read to us but in December and january1958, dad read A Christmas Carol to my 4 year old sister and 8 year old me every night. Our youngest sister was born, at home, on 14.01.58. Das explained mummy would rest and he’d get us ready for bed and read us a chapter of his favourite book after tea, nighties on, teeth cleaned and by the coal fire before bed
I have the book he read from. Magical

My dad was my story reader when I went to bed, I can’t remember what stories but he certainly did read to me he was a gentle, kind hardworking man, I miss him and mum such a lot, even now, Mum was the extrovert Dad the quieter he was devoted to mum although they used to often niggle at each other
It was probably Enid Blyton and Rupert

ViceVersa

I honestly don't remember either my mother or my father reading to me. I learned to read before I went to school and from then on, I devoured anything I could get my hands on. They both just encouraged me to read for myself.

My mother read to me when I was well under 5, my father was in India and Burma fighting a war. But, like ViceVersa I was reading well before I went to school, so I didn't want to be read to when I could read the book myself in half the time.

My own children were the same. I read to them almost from birth, but well before school age they were reading for themselves and did not want to be read to becaause they could get through books so much quicker on their own.

Kate1949

My 'dad' was a violent, abusive, drunken, horrible man. The thought of him reading to or playing with us is laughable.

Mine too.

My mother wasn’t any better.

I read before I went to school too but have no memory of how that happened.

In the sixties, my dad read to us every night when we went to bed, even when I could read, as I had younger siblings. I think my mum was glad to sit down in peace by that point in the day. My favourite was When We Were Very Young, which he was given when he was a small boy in the 1930s. I can still recite lots of the poems off by heart. I also loved The Borrowers.

Kate1949

My 'dad' was a violent, abusive, drunken, horrible man. The thought of him reading to or playing with us is laughable.

Same here. But later in life ( my 30s) I found out that at 19 years old he was a signalman on the Russian convoys.
When I saw films of those convoys it made sense.
Their life expectancy was 4 days.

My Mum read to me every night quite a while after I could read myself. I loved the cosy feeling of her sitting on my bed reading to me while I was snuggled up feeling sleepy

My Dad never did. He would sometimes make up stories during the day.

I don’t remember either parent telling me they loved me but I knew they did.

I could also read before I went to school but my parents rarely read to me.
My Mum loved books and was an avid reader, I do remember her reading a box set of Milly Molly Mandy to me and her favourite book which I still have Anne of Green Gables.
I can’t remember at all my Dad reading to me but his early career was a Maths teacher, he spent hours teaching me sums and Maths. In my teens he gave me the complete works of Shakespeare which I still have but never read. But as we live not far from Stratford we often went to the RSC to watch plays.

My mum taught me to read but my dad read the bedtime story.

I don't remember my father ever reading to us, but he was very kind and fun with us in other ways. I fondly remember the back rubs I would get while watching TV. My dad was known to always lie on the floor watching TV, and I don't remember him ever sitting in a chair in the living room unless there was company! So often there was a pileup of wrestling with all 4 of us on top of him, and him pulling our toes until we screamed! He was a good man and I miss him.

I was blessed with very loving parents and it saddens me to read that some fellow gransnetters had the opposite experience 💐

I remember sitting on my dad’s knee from an early age. He did read and sing to me. But what I loved most were his made up stories. He carried on that tradition with my children.

To those with violent dads I can only send

I have just realised I cannot remember my mum reading to me either, or indeed showing affection.
It's a wonder I turned out reasonably OK.
It was a strange time with all those parents carrying their war memories.

My Dad was born in the 1920’s and, like a previous poster had served as a signalman on the Russian convoys, but not for long. I was born when he was 44. He was the kindest, gentlest man who cuddled me and read stories and played games. I loved him and was loved by him, he died in 2006 and I still miss him.

Never had anything read to me by mum or dad, no play, never had a kiss from dad or mum who only started showing any affection in her later years.

My Dad was the sweetest, kindest man you could ever meet. He was 26 years older than my mum. I was the youngest of 9 children, so I was the baby. By the time I came along Dad had retired.
I remember clearly, holding his hands on my way to school.
He passed away when I was 14.
They say life is a balance - I had an idyllic childhood, Later, not so good.
So sorry for those who had a tough childhood

I don't remember my Dad reading to me, nor was he very demonstrative but he was very caring, making sure I was all right and looked after, cleaned my shoes, filled me a hot water bottle at night in the cold weather etc. I was never smacked although he could get cross if I cheeked my mother when I was a teenager!
He was an older Dad, too, as he was away for most of the war in the RN.

I am sorry for those who had abusive parents, it must have been dreadful to live in fear. 💐

To those with 'dads' like mine It's tough.

Allira How understanding of you. Every day of my childhood was frightening. There were some good times obviously with friends etc but home life and Catholic school were terrifying. Sorry to hijack the thread with poor me (again).