I do remember not being able to read, because my parents were pretty clear that they were not reading to me if I could. In fact, they kinda forced me into it, just to avoid having to go through Where The Wild Things Are One. More. Time. I have vague, light memories of having that read to me, probably my earliest memories (well, that and my dad mending the footies of my PJs, and me being surprised even then that he could sew).

I have a very specific memory of not being able to read: I remember in church looking at the board at the front to see what the hymns were going to be, finding the hymns by number, but then not being able to read them. (All my earliest memories are of church!)

Like Nutty, I can't remember not knowing how to read. I recently asked my Dad if he remembers when I started reading, and he said he was pretty sure that I read my hospital chart right after I was born.

Funny, Dad. Then he said he remembers being really sick and in bed when I was 3-ish, maybe younger, and I brought him the newspaper and informed him that if he was too sick to read, I would read it to him.

He was amused, and indulgently told me to go ahead, read him the Sports page, expecting me to make shit up.

So I read the Sports page to him. He was so surprised that he yelled for my Mom, so that she would witness it and not think it was an illness-induced hallucination.

My mother reads all the time(and she gave me her crime-junkie thing) My dad reads how-to books and used to tell me fiction is a waste of time.

I was what is called a "spontaneous reader." I just started reading when I was about three. My mother read to us at least an hour a day--and she wonders why I have all these books. I remember being very impatient when my mother was reading to my sister and me, because I could think of too many things between the words, plus my sister always wanted the same story over again. My other early reading memory was when I went to kindergarten when I was 4. There were alphabet cards on the walls, and the teacher said, "This is Mr. A and this is Mr. B." I could already read, and no one had ever talked to me like that. I naturally came to the conclusion that the teachers were insane, and for some reason my parents had been forced to lock me in a room with crazy people for half a day.

When we were reading in class, I rarely knew where the place was, because I was always reading ahead. By the second grade, I spent most classes reading with the book between me and the desk or inside the textbook. By the 10th grade, when I was competing for being the world's most annoying smartass, I just put the book on the desk and read openly.

I'm always jealous of spontaneous readers. My dad taught me when I was 3 or 4. I can't remember not being able to read, but one of my earliest memories is of him teaching me to read with flashcards. They sometimes used books as a reward -- I remember getting Little Golden Books for being good in the grocery store, for example. (They're both readers, my mom more than my dad; I grew up going to the library with mom almost every week.) I was never discouraged from reading, probably because they were pretty happy with any activity that kept me quiet and out of their hair. Reading at the dinner table, though, was Not Done.

I remember the Pizza Hut thing, but I don't think my classes ever participated -- I might have been a year or so too old. I was in the summer reading club at the library; I won when I was six, and got a silver dollar and a bunch of candy.

My parents did the flashcard thing too, but what can you expect with two teachers? Mostly, though, I remember them doing that with my brother.

So I read the Sports page to him. He was so surprised that he yelled for my Mom, so that she would witness it and not think it was an illness-induced hallucination.

Heh. I had a similar experience: my mother was bragging to her uncle that I was already reading at age 3. He figured I'd probably just memorized the stories they'd read to me hundreds of times, so he sat me down with the newspaper and asked me to read it to him. So I did.

I come from a family of readers. My dad's an editor and my mom's an author [edit: and before that, a librarian!], and there are books in every room and on every available surface in both my house and my parents' house. The only time I was told to stop reading as a child was when we were on vacation somewhere cool (Ecuador, or Barbados, say) and I never even looked out the window of the car, being so intent on the book I was reading. Oh, and we weren't supposed to read at the dinner table either, although sometimes I'd try to sneak it.

My dad's an engineer. I have no idea where he came up with the flashcard thing. I should ask him someday.

I never even looked out the window of the car, being so intent on the book I was reading.

You could read in the car? That was the one place where I was not allowed to read, largely because it always made me carsick. (Still does, in fact.)