It's Friday!!

Finally! And to make it even better, I don't have to wait patiently for the man of the house to show up sometime today and give me a hand since he surprised me by showing up around 1 am this morning. I even got to sleep in this morning, waking up only long enough to get the kids clothes together and going straight back to bed.

Posting about my mother's stories yesterday got me thinking about my love of books and words and how I have been surrounded by them for as long as I remember. Would I have been such an avid reader if I had grown up in a different environment? my grandmother tells tales of a tiny me who know one would believe could read until she would pull out a book and prove it. Or of having to drive daily down a certain road in Orlando where strip clubs abounded with me trying to read every sign in sight. A certain club, called Circus Circus, caused many a tantrum because I wanted to go see the circus and could not understand why it was only for adults. As proud as she was that I was reading at such a young age, she wished for me to stop many times.

On the other hand, I do know several people who enjoy reading when no one else in their family is interested in it. But none of them are really as bad as I am about it. I am miserable if I don't have anything to read and there are books in every room of our home, much to the dismay of the man of the house. My grandmother is the same way and every time I go home to visit, she sends me home with boxes of books to make room for new ones on her shelves.

Do you think environment has a lot to do with a love of reading? Are your kids avid readers or writers because you are? I would love to hear your opinions on this!