When my son was born, I quickly realized that there were a million things I didn’t know about parenting. How do you soothe a crying baby at 3 a.m.? What’s the right way to swaddle? Why do tiny socks seem to vanish into thin air? But amidst all the baby chaos, one thing came naturally to me—storytime. I didn’t know it then, but those early, clumsy moments of reading to my son would become some of the most cherished times of my life.
At first, it was just about the ritual. Every night, after a bath and a bottle, I’d pick up one of those colorful board books and read to him. He was so tiny, barely able to hold his head up, but his big, curious eyes would lock onto the pages. He didn’t understand a word I was saying, but he was mesmerized by the sound of my voice. I wasn’t just reading; I was performing. I’d add dramatic pauses, make silly voices, and sometimes even throw in a bad British accent (not that he cared). Those moments weren’t about the words on the page—they were about connection.
As he got older, storytime transformed from a soothing bedtime routine into something much more dynamic. By the time he could talk, he had opinions—strong ones—about which books we should read. “Not that one, Daddy!” he’d say, pushing aside one story in favor of another he’d fallen in love with. I started to notice something incredible: reading wasn’t just a passive activity for him. He was engaged. He was curious. He had questions, ideas, and that endless “why” phase that every parent knows all too well.
One night, we were reading Where the Wild Things Are for what felt like the hundredth time. I was doing my best “Max in his wolf suit” voice when he stopped me mid-sentence. “Daddy, why is Max mad at his mommy?” The question floored me. I had always read the book as a simple adventure story about a boy sailing off to a world of monsters. But to my son, it was about emotions and relationships. That’s when I realized storytime wasn’t just about reading aloud—it was about understanding the world together.
There’s something special about dads as reading buddies. I don’t mean to take anything away from moms or grandparentsor anyone else who reads to their little ones. But dads tend to bring a unique flavor to storytime. Maybe it’s because we often approach it with a sense of playfulness. I know I do. I don’t just read the words on the page; I bring the story to life. I’ll growl like a bear, roar like a dragon, and make my son burst into giggles with my over-the-top impressions of grumpy old men or snooty princesses. It’s not about being perfect; it’s about creating joy.
But it’s not all silly voices and laughter. Storytime has also given me a chance to teach my son some of life’s most important lessons.
Books are remarkable because they can introduce kids to big ideas in ways that feel safe and approachable. When we read The Giving Tree, it opened up a conversation about kindness and generosity. When we read Last Stop on Market Street, we talked about gratitude and seeing beauty in the world around us. These weren’t lectures or forced lessons—they were organic, thoughtful discussions sparked by the stories we shared.
What surprised me most, though, is how much storytime became a two-way street. Sure, I was teaching him about empathy and problem-solving, but he was teaching me too. One evening, we were reading Goodnight Moon, a book I had read to him countless times before. As I turned the page, he interrupted me. “Daddy, why does the bunny say goodnight to everything?” I paused, unsure how to answer. “Maybe it’s his way of saying thank you,” I finally said. He nodded thoughtfully, and we kept reading. That moment stuck with me. It was such a simple observation, but it reminded me to slow down and appreciate the small, ordinary things in life.
Storytime has also been an incredible way to build my relationship with my son. As dads, we often spend so much time focused on providing—working long hours, fixing things around the house, or planning for the future. But storytime is different. It’s not about doing; it’s about being—being present, being engaged, being there for your child in a way that feels simple and meaningful. When I sit down with a book and my son snuggles up next to me, the rest of the world fades away. It’s just the two of us, sharing an adventure, one page at a time.
I’ll admit, there have been nights when I was tempted to skip storytime. After a long day at work, the couch and the TV have a way of calling my name. But every time I’ve pushed through that exhaustion and picked up a book, I’ve been glad I did. Storytime isn’t just for my son—it’s for me too. It’s a chance to unwind, reconnect, and remember what reallymatters.
Now that my son is a little older, he’s started asking to read to me. Watching him sound out words and slowly piece together sentences is one of the most rewarding things I’ve ever experienced. It’s like watching the seeds we planted together during all those storytime sessions finally start to bloom. He’s becoming a reader in his own right, and I like tothink that our time spent with books has played a small part in that.
I know there’s a lot of talk these days about the importance of reading to kids—and for good reason. Study after study shows that kids who are read to regularly are more likely to succeed in school, develop strong language skills, and even form better social connections. But for me, it’s not about the statistics. It’s about the moments. It’s about the way my son’s face lights up when I read his favorite book for the tenth time in a row. It’s about the quiet laughter we share over a silly joke in a story. It’s about the bond we’ve built, one bedtime book at a time.
So to all the dads out there, let me say this: if you’re not already doing storytime, start tonight. You don’t need to be a great reader or know all the best books. Just grab a story, sit down with your kid, and let yourself get lost in the moment. You might be surprised by what you discover—not just about the book, but about your child and yourself.
Looking back, I wouldn’t trade our storytime for anything. Those moments have been more than just a nightly routine; they’ve been the foundation of our relationship, the spark for countless conversations, and a reminder of how powerful a simple story can be. As much as I’ve tried to teach my son through books, he’s taught me so much more.
And who knows? Maybe one day, when he’s all grown up, he’ll remember those nights we spent reading together. Maybehe’ll pass the tradition on to his own kids. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll realize that those silly voices and bedtime stories were my way of saying, “I love you.” Because that’s the real power of storytime—it’s not just about the stories we read. It’s about the memories we create.
