Dads

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

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 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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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

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.

O Kate

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

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.