A little girl anxiously waits for her father to arrive. Each night, she crawls into the gigantic chair and sits impatiently. As soon as her dad walks through the door, she bounds over to him and asks, “Daddy, can we read a book?” But dinner has to be eaten and dishes have to be cleaned and TV has to be watched. Finally, right before bedtime, story time would start. She has three brand new books in her small hands, with crisp spines just waiting to be cracked open. She curls up in her dad’s lap, hanging on his every word. Her eyes follow the words on the page, but wander to the pictures whenever she doesn’t understand something. “Daddy, what does that mean?”, she never fails to ask. Nine times out of ten, she falls asleep before the third book is finished. Her dad’s strong hands would then carry her up the stairs, and gently set her in bed. With the sheets tucked all around her, she dreams of all the stories to come.