"Ma, we’re about to read?" 📚💕
This is what Engaged Shared Reading™ actually looks like in real life.
I hear him before I see him.
"Ma, we’re about to read?"
It’s not a question. It’s a rhythm, a ritual. A knowing that this is what we do.
I could say, Not tonight. I’d be justified. It’s been a long day—running from meetings to calls to school events and back home again. I could tell him to read on his own. He’s old enough.
But then I’d miss this.
I sit down on the edge of his bed, the glow of LED lights softening the edges of the room. Aidyn is already under the covers, glasses slipping down his nose, book open and waiting.
"We’re on chapter 25," he says, tapping the page like a bookmark I forgot to use.
"Wait, let me go back a few lines—"
"Ma! We literally just read that."
I laugh because he’s right. But I do it anyway.
We fall into the story like we always do—voices changing, heads tilting closer, words filling the space between us. And then we hit the word.
"D-u-n-k-e-y," I say.
And that’s it. He’s gone!
His whole body shakes with laughter, pillow muffling the sound as he tries (and fails) to keep it together. He’s waiting for me to say it again.
I do.
"Nooo! It’s d-o-n-k-e-y, not d-u-n-k-e-y! Ma, why do you say it like that?"
I don’t know, but I double down, making it worse on purpose. He can’t breathe now, and honestly? Neither can I.
Somewhere between donkey and the next page, we end up talking about Winnie the Pooh. Which leads to a debate: What even is Eeyore? (A horse? A sad dog? We need answers.) That somehow spins into a conversation about his friends, which turns into a story about how his entire 5th grade class was forced to do a ridiculous dance in music today—“with enthusiasm, Ma, or you FAIL.”
I would have failed. No poker face.
But what gets me is what happens next.
We’re deep into the chapter now, following a man on a journey, and Aidyn pauses.
"He’s bringing too much stuff," he says.
"Huh?"
"Like… he’s carrying too much. What if all that extra stuff slowed him down makes him miss what he’s actually supposed to get?"
I blink. This is why we read together.
Because this? This is more than a book.
"That’s deep," I tell him. "Because that happens in real life too. Sometimes we hold onto so much that we don’t have room for what’s ahead."
He nods, flipping the page.
We’ve committed to a chapter a night. So when we reach the end, we stop. Say our prayers. He places the book in its spot—because, of course, the book has a spot.
We say goodnight.
This is what Engaged Shared Reading really looks like.
It’s not about forcing deep conversations. It’s not about quizzing your kid on what they remember. It’s about getting lost together—in a story, in a moment, in a connection that lasts long after the book closes.
This is why I started guiding parents through The ENGAGE Method. Not because I needed another thing on my to-do list, but because I know what happens when we read like this.
When books become part of your child’s real world, you see it in the way they think, the way they talk, the way they connect with you.
That’s why I created a simple & flexible way for parents to start doing this too.
✨ See what Engaged Shared Reading looks like in your home with The ENGAGE Method.
All my best,
Quinn 📚💕
P.S. As I write this to you about last night’s moment, I need to sign off—Aidyn just came downstairs, book in hand, reminding me that we still need to read.
I love that he never lets me forget.