Descriptive Essay About My Father
Oh, how mistaken my Dad was. I remember him looking down at me, my Dad a towering height of
6'6 and I a height of 3'5, telling me that I wasn't reading. I remember looking down and getting sad
and angry, that I thought I was reading.
When I was younger, I loved to "read". By reading, I mean being read to by my parents every
night. One of my parents would lay beside me every night on my twin sized day bed. I would
snuggle underneath my quilted blanket that my grandmother made for me, and get ready for an
adventure. Our two golden retrievers, George, and Baldwin, would be either on or next to my bed,
being content with just being near my parents and me. Every night I would expect a story of
adventure. Both of my parents were constantly...show more content...
"I can read The Fourteen Bears, Summer and Winter all by myself!" I said, my smile somehow
growing larger. My Dad smiled a bit more and laughed, "Mimi, you aren't "reading" the book, you
just memorized it." He said laughing. I started to get sad and angry, my smile disappearing, and I
started to tear up. My Dad saw my frown and stopped laughing. "Mimi, It's ok if you don't know
how to read yet, I know you'll learn," My Dad said with a smile. I didn't return the smile, as I was
still angry that he said that. I was reading! I looked at the words and said what they were! I didn't
get what he was saying!
Over time, something clicked. One night, with my mom sitting next to me, I narrowed my eyes
and looked at the words. I looked at them, remembering what my teachers taught me at
Montessori, and I put two and two together. I started reading! It was slow and steady. I couldn't
read some of the bigger words, but I did it! I was reading! My mom was ecstatic and so was my
Dad. From that spark, a great fire ignited. My love of reading grew and I would read almost
everyday. At Montessori, as a Kindergartner, I could read better than some of the fourth and fifth
graders. I even tried to teach my little brother how to read by setting a pile of books in front of
him, and reading and describing the words. My parents loved it, and they went out of their way to
get me more and more books. When I entered elementary school, my parents bought me over $100
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