Istill have that little book. Its pages are worn. The corners are bent. The cover has been taped more than once.

To anyone else, it would probably look like an ordinary children’s book. To me, it’s priceless. Not because it’s rare. Not because it’s beautiful. But because it reminds me of one of the best pieces of parenting advice I’ve ever received.

Long before I became the founder of Kids Hideout, I was a preschool teacher. I had the privilege of teaching children in Mexico and Spain, working with ages equivalent to Pre-K 3, Pre-K 4, and Kindergarten. Those years taught me so much about child development.

Every day I watched young children absorb language in ways that never stopped amazing me. Their brains were constantly building new connections — learning from every conversation, every song, every story, every interaction. Scientists call this brain plasticity: the incredible ability of a young brain to grow through experience.

As educators, we spent a great deal of time talking about language development, books, storytelling, and what we now call early literacy. But despite everything I learned as a teacher, the lesson that stayed with me the most didn’t come from a classroom. It came from another mom.

One of my fellow teachers had become a mother a couple of years before I did. When I was pregnant with my first son, she handed me a children’s book and said something I’ll never forget.

That was it. No complicated parenting philosophy. No expensive educational toys. No perfect schedule. Just one simple habit.

Read to your child every night.

So I did. The very first night we came home from the hospital, I sat beside my tiny newborn and read him that little book. The next night, I read it again. Then the next.

Eventually one book became two. Then three. By his first birthday, whenever someone asked what they could give him, my answer was almost always the same: “Books.” Little by little our shelves filled with stories. Reading before bed stopped being another item on the bedtime checklist. It became part of who we were as a family.

Were there nights when we were exhausted? Absolutely. There were evenings when all I wanted was to skip one more step in the routine. But almost every night… we still read. Not for a few months. Not for a couple of years. For nearly a decade — until both of my boys eventually stopped asking, somewhere around eight or nine years old. Looking back, I think I missed those bedtime stories more than they did.

One of the greatest lessons my own children taught me is that development is never one-size-fits-all. My oldest son was incredibly verbal from a young age. He loved conversations. He loved asking questions. He loved telling stories.

My younger son had a completely different journey. He developed language later, and even attended speech therapy. Same parents. Same bedtime routine. Same books. Same stories. Completely different children.

That experience reinforced something I wish every parent knew. Reading to your child isn’t about making them speak earlier. It isn’t about creating a genius. It isn’t about comparing milestones.

Every child develops at their own pace. And that’s exactly how it should be.

What reading offers is something much more meaningful. It surrounds children with language. With conversation. With curiosity. With questions. With connection. And those experiences become part of the foundation they build upon throughout childhood.

Many parents think reading readiness begins with learning the alphabet. In reality, it begins years earlier. Long before children recognize letters, they’re already developing the skills they’ll eventually use to read, communicate, and learn. This is what educators call early literacy.

Early literacy isn’t teaching babies to read. It’s helping children develop vocabulary, listening skills, story comprehension, memory, attention, communication, curiosity — and a love of books.

Every time a child listens to a story… every time they predict what might happen next… every time they answer a question about a character… their brains are strengthening the foundation they’ll build upon for years to come.

Stories are about so much more than words on a page. The best stories invite children to wonder. To ask questions. To laugh. To move. To notice emotions. To make predictions. To connect ideas. To become part of the adventure.

That’s why storytelling becomes even more powerful when it’s combined with music, movement, dramatic play, and conversation. Children aren’t passive listeners. They’re active participants. And when children actively participate, learning becomes memorable.

One of the greatest privileges of working with children over the years has been watching something happen again and again. Not every child walks into a class ready to participate. Some stay close to their parent. Some quietly observe. Some spend the entire first class simply watching. And that’s okay.

Some children need time before they feel safe enough to participate. Then, week after week, something beautiful begins to happen. They recognize the songs. They remember the routine. They smile at familiar faces. The classroom becomes predictable. The environment feels safe.

And slowly, the child who once watched from a parent’s lap begins clapping. Then singing. Then answering questions. Then volunteering. I’ve seen some of our quietest children become some of our most enthusiastic participants — not because anyone pushed them, but because they were given the time and the space to grow at their own pace.

I’ve also seen children who arrive bursting with excitement, eager to answer every question first. For them, the lesson is different. They learn to listen. To wait. To take turns. To celebrate someone else’s moment. Both experiences are equally valuable. Because childhood isn’t only about learning letters and numbers — it’s also about learning to be part of a community.

Years after becoming a mom, I opened Kids Hideout with one simple mission: to create a place where children could learn through play, imagination, movement, and meaningful connection.

Then one day, Miss Gaby shared an idea with me. She told me about a storytelling class she had designed. At first, I thought she was describing another music class. We already had a wonderful music program, so I asked her, “What makes this different?” Her answer immediately caught my attention.

The music wasn’t the class. The music was part of the story.

Every adventure came alive through books, live music, movement, dramatic play, conversation, and interactive participation. Children didn’t simply listen. They became part of the story. I remember thinking, this is exactly what Kids Hideout is all about — not because we needed another class, but because this class represented everything we believe childhood should be.

Nothing will ever replace reading to your child at home. Those quiet bedtime moments are irreplaceable. But experiences like Super Storytellers offer something different. They allow families to experience stories together in a completely new way.

Parents aren’t simply reading. They’re participating. They’re dancing. They’re laughing. They’re singing. They’re imagining alongside their children. They’re creating memories together. And that’s something children carry with them long after the story is over.

Even today, my oldest son — now a teenager — still asks me to tell him stories. Not bedtime stories anymore. He wants to hear stories about our family. About history. About remarkable people. About artists. About scientists. About the world. I’ve realized that stories became one of the ways we explore life together — not because stories have all the answers, but because they help us make sense of the world.

I still have that little book. Not because it taught my children to read. Not because it guaranteed perfect outcomes. But because every time I hold it, I’m reminded that some of the greatest gifts we give our children aren’t expensive. They aren’t complicated.

Sometimes they’re as simple as sitting together for ten quiet minutes at the end of the day. Opening a book. Reading one more story. Laughing together. Wondering together. Making time for one another.

One day, our children will read stories on their own. What I hope they’ll carry with them isn’t the memory of every book we read. I hope they’ll remember how those stories made them feel. I hope they’ll remember feeling safe. Feeling loved. Feeling heard. Feeling like anything was possible.

Long after a story ends, the connection it creates can stay with a child for a lifetime.