Pam had never been a fan of reading. She’d read every once in a while, and usually had some trashy romance novel stashed somewhere, but, overall, she could take it or leave it. Jim, however, had a passion for reading that she’d never known about. While she was still pregnant, he would read stories to her bump – everything from Dr. Seuss to 2,000 Leagues Under the Sea. When Ben was born, the tradition was set. At bedtime, they would all gather around, while Jim read the story of the night.

            “And he blew the house down. Whoooooooooo Whooooooooo oink oink,” Jim the book aloud, the pigs and wolf coming alive with his actions. He waited until the laughter died down, flipping the page to continue.

“Look sister, I see our brother’s house up ahead,” he said in the high, squeaky voice of the pig. “Oh, yes, our smart, smart brother, who built a house of bricks. That surely will protect us from the evil wolf,” the second pig said adoringly. Even Sophie laughed, too young to understand what was being said, but she enjoyed listening to his voice change and the silly actions he always did along with the stories.

            “‘And down fell the wolf, straight into a pot on the stove,’” Jim said, his voice dropping as the story ended. “And you know what? Then the pigs took the wolf to Uncle Dwight, who had a great recipe for Wolf Stew!”

            “No daddy! They’re just cartoons!” Ben said, exaggerating the difference.

            “And Uncle Dwight isn’t?”

            Pam rolled her eyes. “Okay, boys, time for bed.” Sophie had already fallen asleep in her arms, while son was still something from story time.

            “No, more Pigs!” Ben protested.

            “Tomorrow night, I promise,” Jim leaned down to kiss Ben and tuck him in. “Maybe tomorrow the pigs will get eaten!” This elicited another round of giggles from Ben. “Goodnight Son, I love you.”

            “Goodnight daddy. I love you!”