I just read this post by Fiddledeedee, and it brought back a wonderful memory. In fact, I commented on her post, and then decided to paste my comment here as a post of it's own. (It certainly was long enough!)

I very distinctly remember the moment about 26 years ago when I learned to read.

I was in kindergarten, home-schooled, and I do not know what curriculum my parents were using then. I had a small paperback book with rows of pictures. Under the pictures were words like hat, wet, bug, etc. I “read” that book for ages and I always got everything correct except for the word “wet.”

(In reality, I was not reading, I was simply looking at the pictures and saying what they were. The “wet” picture was water pouring from a bathtub faucet so I always guessed “water” or “faucet” or “pipe” and I was so frustrated that I wasn’t getting it right.

One day, I sat snuggled against my dad’s side, tucked under his arm while he held the book. I did my usual guessing, and when I came to “wet” I hesitated. I knew it wasn’t water, but I couldn’t remember what it was. My dad patiently used his index finger to reveal the letters one at a time to me while I sounded them out. We sounded them over and over and over and over together. I was saying the word correctly, but not comprehending that it was a word.

Suddenly, it clicked!

“WET!” I yelled out. “WET! IT’S WET, DADDY!” And I realized what reading was. I snatched the book from his hands and turned back to the first page to READ FOR REAL all of the words.

A whole new world opened, and I don’t think I’ve been without a book in my hands since.

Well, except for maybe right now when I need both hands to type.