There are two kinds of Book Week parents: the ones who have been hand-stitching felt ears since July, and the ones rifling through their wardrobe and Googling \u201ceasy child book costumes that don\u2019t look lazy\u201d at 9pm the night before. I am firmly in the latter group.<\/p>\n
I adore Book Week. I really do. The parade, the noise, the delight on small faces as they become Gruffalos, Matildas and, almost always, Wally (he\u2019s going to be impossible not to find). And even better, the smiling grandparents and parents, and the teachers who always impress in their elaborate costumes and matching enthusiasm.<\/p>\n
But every August, this celebration of reading collides head-on with my complete lack of crafting skills. I can plot a novel, sure. Sew a dragon tail? Not so much.<\/p>\n
My approach is pure survival parenting. A Hogwarts robe from Christmas repurposed for the third year in a row? Done. A Wimpy Kid<\/a> mask drawn in five minutes with a black texta and stapled to some string? Absolutely. My kids have learned that their mother\u2019s talents lie in storytelling and finding things in the back of the cupboard, not in sewing sequins until midnight.<\/p>\n The reality is that the Book Week mental load falls mostly on mothers, stacked on top of everything else: school lunches, work deadlines, permission slips, the sudden demand for cupcakes \u201cby tomorrow\u201d. It\u2019s one more task in the long invisible list.<\/p>\n The thing is \u2013 and I\u2019ve had to remind myself of this more than once \u2013 no one really cares how well or not your child is dressed. In this case at least, parents need to give themselves an A for effort. If you tried, you succeeded.<\/p>\n Last year I sent my son dressed as a comic book character (OK fine, a gaming character whose name rhymes with Dario) because he wore the same costume the Halloween before. Beside him his best friend was dressed, I assume, as a rock star \u2013 wearing a bad wig and a T-shirt with jeans. Neither of them seemed to care that they weren\u2019t technically \u201cBook Week\u201d characters, because they were swept up in the magic of the spectacle.<\/p>\n We\u2019re not here to celebrate how good you are at crafting a costume and whether it meets stringent Book Week standards, I say to myself. We\u2019re here to celebrate reading.<\/p>\n There\u2019s a decline in reading for pleasure among kids as they get older. A survey by the Australian Bureau of Statistics<\/a> found that not only are children reading less across the board since 2017-2018, but that while 76% of children aged between five and eight read for pleasure, just 63% of those aged 12 to 14 did. Reading rates continue to drop as teens get older, with almost 30% of teens in years 7 to 12<\/a> not reading in their spare time.<\/p>\n And we need more kids to read. I\u2019m saying this not just as an author and a parent, but because research shows us that kids who read do better from a social and economic perspective<\/a>.<\/p>\n The Book Week parade is a reminder of the importance of books and reading. Kids step into a character and for a day inhabit someone else\u2019s life. They get to try on bravery, mischief, kindness. And as parents, whether we craft for months or wing it the night before, we get to stand in the crowd and watch them claim that space.<\/p>\n But more importantly, when kids and parents go home, I hope the magic of books and reading continues, because having parents who read strongly determines<\/a> whether their kids will read too. In a world where attention spans are shrinking and literacy rates are falling, reading is perhaps more important for kids than ever before.<\/p>\n This year is the 80th anniversary of Children\u2019s Book Week in Australia. I think this means it\u2019s not going anywhere any time soon. I hope the joy of reading and books continues to be celebrated well into the future, so my own children are grappling with what to dress their kids for the parade \u2013 because despite my lack of crafting skills I do enjoy this joyous, raucous event. I know, watching my older kids grow up, that the costumes will be discarded and forgotten, but the memory, and the story, will live on.<\/p>\n Now, if you\u2019ll excuse me, I have urgent business with the dress-up box.<\/p>\n