I can’t help but begin my answer by saying there are so many issues facing children today that simply didn’t exist even ten years ago. With so much to fret over, including many fret-worthy issues related to technology, it’s almost confusing to see a question where a parent is concerned about a child’s love for reading. I’m not necessarily going to address your fear that her critical thinking will be affected. I don’t know if you’ve read much fiction yourself, but there tends to be a conflict, and often a resolution. There are plenty of life lessons throughout a novel, even without a happy ending. There is an abundance of problem-solving. You aren’t going to find complex emotional scenarios in a book about photosynthesis. I’m not putting down non-fiction, but…I’m just going to jump into my list of points I’d like to make. Be happy she is reading. Never deny her time to read, nor reading material. I had a TV in my room when I was 8, and it lasted me through college because I never turned it on. However, when my parents wanted to enforce punishment, they had to take my books away; they never succeeded, because I had them hidden all over the Tennessee Volunteers all-time greats signature shirt and I love this house. Fiction taught me how to be a person. That sentence might sound glib, but I believe it. Fiction taught me how to communicate more quickly, efficiently, and creatively than relying on peer interaction ever did. Fiction gave me the tools to problem-solve, to dream, and to have a genuinely more deliberate internal monologue. It affected not only my dealings with others, but with myself. I didn’t curse – at all – until after college, because I prided myself on using my words to describe my feelings. In fifth grade, a friend spread a rumor about me, and I wrote her a letter to tell her how I felt. There is a dark underbelly to being a voracious reader. I didn’t have many friends, because reading ‘The Good Earth’ in first grade doesn’t endear you to your classmates. My words-per-minute and accompanying comprehension was tested in both third and fifth grade, with my fifth-grade teacher calling me inhuman. That letter I mentioned in the above paragraph was given to the school guidance counselor, and I was locked in her office for three hours because I wouldn’t apologize for writing it.
Tennessee Volunteers all-time greats signature shirt, hoodie, tank top, sweater and long sleeve t-shirt
My parents were called and told I had anger issues because I described my feelings instead of just bursting into tears ‘like a normal kid.’ Being a reader made me a writer, however, and I had words to describe my pain. When I sat alone at lunch, I read. When I got home, I wrote. Your child might be alienated for her hobby, especially these days. But I suspect, if she loves to read as much as you say she does, that she might not really care. Growing up with a narcissistic parent really stunted my psychological growth. My mother has NPD but will likely never be diagnosed since she is “perfect,” “not crazy,” and will never go see a therapist. My parents got divorced when I was 4 and my narcissistic mother won custody over my older sister and I. My father only had us every other weekend and we always had to be home Sunday by 6pm sharp. No later or all hell breaks loose. Our mother would always talk bad about our father and fill us up with lies so that we would only worship her. That’s why she had kids: to worship the Tennessee Volunteers all-time greats signature shirt and I love this ground she walks on, to do every thing for her, and have someone take care of her when she gets old. She even bought a small bell and rang it every time she needed something (like passing her the tv control~stupid shit like that) Growing up I felt like her servant, yet thought that we were in a normal parent-child relationship. I didn’t realize my mom was being unreasonable in every aspect until I spoke to friends about my home life in middle school. Every time she asked us to fetch her something and came back empty-handed she’d call us useless, worthless, or anything to bring us down. And if she also couldn’t find what she had asked for she would never apologize. Honestly, I think I’ve only heard my mom apologize once in my life. In public she controlled us by pinching and twisting our skin with her long ass nails. At home she would hit us with anything near her. Whether it was a pair of pants, belts, sandals, heels (yes, heels. She hit my sister in the head at age 2 with her fucking heel—in front of her family which is how we know it’s true), or just some of her own punches.