“Read me a story,” I begged my mother. As a preschooler, I was fascinated by the squiggly marks on paper that meant something.

“After I cook dinner,” Mom replied.

I decided to write a news story. With pencil and paper, I tried to copy the squiggles on the newspaper.

I showed Mom my message. “What did I write?” I asked Mom.

“Wash your hands. Dinner is ready,” Mom said.

Wow! I wrote something readable without knowing what I’d written.

First grade changed that. I brought home my school book to read to my parents. They sat patiently listening to the adventures of Dick and Jane as they “looked” and eventually ate “cookies,” a more advanced word. I couldn’t stop reading. I followed Mom from room to room, reading the book over and over. Dad tried to hide behind the newspaper without success.

By the time I had a library card, the family made regular trips to the library. The town boasted a Carnegie library along with a branch library. My brothers and I took cardboard boxes to bring home our book selections — which helped getting them to the car without dropping some in a mud puddle on a rainy day.

One event could bring terror to the heart of a law-abiding, library-patron kid, namely realizing I have (gasp) overdue library books! The problem solved — I shoved them out of sight under the bed. A lesson learned that crime doesn’t pay — library fines eventually caught up.

When I became a parent, I observed there seemed to be “reader” readers and “non-reader” readers. The “reader” readers became so engrossed in their books, they’d sink into the setting, smell fragrant flowers and roasting goose, join the book’s characters as they sought triumph over tragedy. These readers were found reading by flashlight under the covers past bedtime, surreptitiously hiding books on their laps during mealtimes, and oblivious to a parent’s counsel on a car trip to put down the book and enjoy the scenery.

“Non-reader” readers reported they never got so engrossed in a book they felt they were transported to another world, the closest being engrossed in subjects like tips on restoring the older pickup and controlling bindweed in the garden. A few said they weren’t into reading about lighthearted banter and deep emotions, but open to reading about beekeeping and the history of inventions. “Non-readers” often can be relied on to help with math and chemistry homework.

Bedtime, a favorite time for me as a parent. Children, tots to teens, piled onto a bed or the couch, each with a book in hand. We read the picture books first, then on to chapters in the chapter books.

As evenings darkened and turned cold, I searched for a reader-encouraging gift. As a “non-sewer” sewer, I started making small blankets/lap quilts simply made to snuggle in during reading time. Six yards of material, three yards for the top — colorful, with a favorite animal, hobby or interest, and the bottom three yards in a harmonizing solid color — cotton or flannel, with batting in the middle.

Sewed it all up like assembling a bologna sandwich. Fastened the top to the bottom with yarn or heavy crochet thread tied in square knots across the fabric. I’m not giving these “blankies” to gifted sewers. Toddlers have never reminded me some of my seams are off-kilter.

For gifts, I pair the blankie with books about their interests.

What a delight now to read to grandchildren. And for them to read to me.