Not that I remember at all. I did learn to read before starting school and would read to myself at night though.
Not that I recall either. But my mom tells me she would sing to me.
With my own son we do it every night, and we read to him during the day too, nearly every day.
Night time ritual is usually a short night time walk outside with his bike or scooter or playtime after dinner. Then bath, a Sandman short (a 5 minute cartoon featuring an intro with the “sandman” an East German claymation character) and story time. Then teeth brushing and off to bed.
He’s 2. I wish he cuddle more.
I don’t recall my parents ever reading to me. I know my dad never did - he wasn’t much of a reader himself. By the time I was 5, I had my own library card and my mom always made time to take me to check out books. I can’t thank her enough for that.
When I had my daughter, I read to her every night starting when she was about 9 months old. She’d curl up in my lap and we’d “read” the chubby books that require a lot of interaction. By the time she was a toddler, we’d have our dedicated hour of reading time every night. Never long stories, with a chapter a night or anything, but her Little Golden Books and the like. It stopped when she was around 7 years old when she would curl herself up with a book.
I know my mom read to me a lot as a child but don’t remember what actual stories. When I got older she’d read a book with me at bedtime but that stopped when I was reading faster in my head than she could out loud and I got bored.
I read under the covers with a flashlight. I thought I was slick because I’d crawl right to the foot of my bed under the covers to read - wouldn’t get caught not sleeping if they couldn’t see the flashlight! Wasn’t until I was a grown-up when it dawned on me that my parents could totally see the flashlight glowing under the blankets.
Probably yes, but before I remember. Daddy taught us to read when we were really little - probably to “defend” his own reading time. I literally have no recollection of not knowing how to read, so I don’t know when I learned. The closest evidence I have is a page in my baby book, which I “autographed,” (legibly, first, middle, and last names,) and my mother wrote the date. I was about 2.5 years old.
A lot of my pre-school-aged memories involve reading, though. My parents, 3 of my 4 grandparents, and my great grandmother were avid readers. I do remember the first and last time my mother tried the “wait till your father gets home” disciplinary gambit, though. I was barely 4 years old. As soon as Ma “threatened” me, I started formulating a plan. When Daddy walked in the door, I helped him take off his work boots, brought him a cold drink and his book, and by the time Ma made it into the den? We were in the big comfy chair reading together. And Ma knew she’d been out-maneuvered. 
The only other moments I remember of being read to as a child were the second grade substitute teacher who read several of the Boxcar Children books to the class, and in third grade, when the librarian read Where the Red Fern Grows. (I think I remember the latter because I was traumatized!)
Yeah, Huckleberry Finn.
yes, many different books over the years
the earliest thing I remember about the books is the Pushmepullyou, so it had to be a Doctor Dolittle book.
favorites that came back as re-runs many time are The Hobbit, The Wind in the Willows and Winnie the Pooh.
just remembered another favorite author - Edgar Eager - loved anything by him
No, but once I learned to read, I’d read them myself.
This is from the perspective of the teller rather than the hearer, but…
My wife and I always read our daughter stories at bedtime, even when she was an infant. We would also tell the standard ones (little red riding hood, etc). When my daughter was still pretty young she saw the Adam Sandler movie Bedtime Stories. After that she insisted that all the stories should be original creations. I’ve spent many an evening wracking my brain to come up with original content. She’s now almost sixteen and still asks for a bedtime story most nights.
Taking the time to do something like this with your children every night is one of the most rewarding things (for both of you) that I can imagine.
LOL, pretty much the same here. Most of my reading then (and still today) is done in bed. My mom encouraged reading; but I don’t ever remember her actually reading to me. I’ve also, as long as I remember, brought a book to bed with me, be it Peanuts books as little kid to Stephen King or Joseph Wambaugh to name a couple in middle school and high school.
My mom read to my sisters and I pretty much every night as well as I remember. And not just read the stories, but used voice inflection to make it even more interesting. I and my wife read to our kids as well.
My Mom made up all kinds of bedtime stories, based on my suggestions. Many of my favorite ones revolved around “Wormy,” an earthworm who travelled around the world having adventures.
Once I was able to read on my own, my favorite reading material was all the old Classics Comics my uncles used to own.
Probably, but I have no recollection of anything that happened in my life before I was 4. It might have been “The Poky Little Puppy”, which was published when I was 3, and is still in print in its original form.
I had a sister 6 years older than myself, who loved school and wanted to be a teacher, so that was pretty much all the intellectual stimulation I needed. She came home and taught me her lessons from her grade.
Nope. But proud consumers of books that my parent were, we did get read to daily. Just not before bed.
Are we related? Cuz damn, that sounds familiar. 
I was composing my own sonnets and operas while still in the womb, so I didn’t really need anyone to read to me.
But, mostly, we were left to our own devices most of the time. Workaholic, alcoholic parents weren’t the best for bed time stories. Watch TV til tired, then shuffle off to bed sometime after Mom passed out.
When we did learn to read*, we read a lot. I preferred sci-fi, my brother was into mysteries, but we shared each other’s library books.
*can’t really remember at what age, but I don’t think it matters much
Scuffy the Tugboat; Thornton Burgess; a pretty grim volume of Grimms’ fairytales; Glooscap stories.
I never much liked being read to.
I loved, though, when my grandmother would tell me bedtime stories about her childhood growing up on a farm. I wish I could remember more details, but they seem to have all blended together into a general impression of life on a farm, and walking to a one room school. The only one that stands out is a time when she and her brothers did something instead of their farm chores (maybe go climb trees and pick apples? or that could be from another story, or it could be from Caddie Woodlawn, for all I know) and then they decided to hide in the root cellar instead of facing their parents. The punishment, I think, was that the parents acted like nothing was amiss, sat down and ate dinner, and then went to bed, leaving the kids in the root cellar.
My mom read to me often, several times a day most days. My dad did the bedtime thing though, and he didn’t usually read to me. He recited poetry that he had memorized.
I still have all or parts of his various favorite poems memorized.
The Madeline books, The Color Kittens, Scuffy the Tug Boat, Magilla Gorilla, The Little Engine that Could, The Goat that Drank Soda Pop, and Old Mother West Wind. When I was a step-mother, we made up stories about several characters including a white horse and the Evil Skeezix.