Your Baby Can Read

Look, I get it. That little ad pops up in your feed—"Your Baby Can Read!"—and your heart does this little leap. Because what if? What if you could give them this incredible head start? What if those tiny fingers could point to words before they can even form a sentence?

It’s intoxicating.

But let’s have a real talk, you and me. Not about creating a baby genius, but about something much more beautiful and simple: falling in love with language, together.

Because honestly? Your baby can read. Just… not in the way that flashcard-pushing program wants you to think.

Here’s the thing. Reading isn’t about memorizing shapes on a card. It’s about connection. It’s about the warm, safe weight of them in your lap. It’s about the sound of your voice, their favorite sound in the entire world, making a story come alive.

So, forget the pressure. Let’s talk about the real "how-to’s."

Create the Magic..

First, just talk

Then, be the book.

I know it feels silly sometimes, narrating your life like you’re the star of a cooking show. "Okay, now Mama's putting the blueberries in the bowl!" But that constant, flowing river of words? That’s the foundation. It’s filling their little brain with all the sounds and rhythms of language.

Point to the words as you read.

And play with words everywhere

Make reading a physical, snuggly, can’t-live-without-it part of your day. The one before nap. The one after bath. It’s not a lesson. It’s a cuddle with a bonus. Let them chew on the board book. Let them turn the pages (even if it’s five at a time). Let them want to be there.

You know that moment when you’re reading Goodnight Moon for the seven hundredth time, and you pause at "goodnight comb"… and their little hand pats the picture?

That’s it. That’s the magic.

That’s them connecting the word they hear, with the picture they see, with the love they feel. That’s pre-reading. It’s a thousand times more powerful than any drilled flashcard

Not in a rigid, "now we will learn" way. Just a slow, gentle drag of your finger under the text. They start to see that those squiggles on the page are what your voice is following. It’s a quiet, simple revelation.

See a stop sign? Point to the big red "STOP." Eating Cheerios? Trace a "C" on the highchair tray with your finger. Sing ridiculous rhyming songs in the car. It’s about showing them that words are a part of their world, not just something confined to a "learning time."

Look, I’m not going to promise you a toddler who can read War and Peace. But I can promise you this: when you trade the pressure of "teaching" for the joy of "sharing," you build something incredible.

You build a child who sees a book and thinks "comfort." Who sees words and thinks "fun." You’re not building a reader; you’re building a relationship with reading.

And that’s a gift that lasts long, long after the flashcards have been recycled.