I'm quite a bit older than my sisters. When I was a teenager, they were still in their adolescence. As they approached their pre-teens, I was moving out and getting married, starting a life away from the home we had shared.
As you can imagine, our age difference meant while I was playing with barbies and running through the woods playing "fort" or whatever other imaginary scenario we could devise, they were kept close to home under the watchful eye of our parents. When they were finally ready to go traipsing through the 10-acres, I was too busy worrying about the boyfriend and the after-school job at the small grocery store/pizza place/video rental place.
However, I do have one memory in particular that I hold dear of the three of us bonding. I don't remember if it was spring, summer, fall or winter, but I spent several weeks reading the Anne of Green Gables series to them. We shared a room and, for the few weeks that it took to get through the six books, we'd take a good twenty to thirty minutes every night before bed to treat ourselves to the mischievous antics of red-headed Anne with an E.
And, before they call me out on it, I'll admit I bribed them. They had to rub my feet while I read. We often joke about this because while Chrissy did an awesome job, Meg...well, she would pretend to fall asleep. Not that I can blame her. I'd probably have done the same thing if I'd had the job.
I mention all this because I started re-reading the series. I'm still reading it right before bedtime and there are three of us piled onto the bed. Only this time, I'm reading it to my boys. The excuse is that my youngest can take an AR (accelerated reader) test on it once we're done, but the truth is I jumped at the chance to introduce them to a piece of literature that meant so much to me and, if I'm not too bold for saying so, to my sister's as well.
I can only hope the boys find Anne as endearing as my sisters and I did all those years ago.