Why Children’s Books Matter (A Mom’s Take)

About 2 and a half years ago, my son came home and hit me with a hard no.

Not a tantrum. Not a meltdown. Just a firm little toddler decision:

“I’m not doing my ABCs.”

And listen… he was only 2.5, but he meant it. 😅

The funny part? This is the same child who could talk about Spider-Man for hours. He was obsessed with superheroes—masks, costumes, action poses, the whole thing. So I tried the usual stuff: encouragement, sticker charts, “let’s practice together,” all of it.

Nothing worked.

And then it clicked: it wasn’t that he couldn’t do it—he just didn’t care.

So I did what a lot of moms do when we’re trying to solve a problem without losing our minds: I made it make sense for him.

I created an ABC practice book that pulled in the superhero energy he already loved, so practicing letters didn’t feel like punishment. It felt like his thing. And it worked.  

It started as something for my toddler, but it’s the same reason so many families search for handwriting books for kindergarten—they want practice that builds confidence, not frustration.  That one shift turned practice into hours of fun handwriting practice over time—because it finally felt like his activity.

Then people saw it… and wanted one.

So I made a version I could sell. Then I created a version for my daughter—even though she was only four months old at the time. And that one decision turned into more books… and eventually, a bigger mission than I expected.

Because once you see what books can do for a child, you can’t unsee it.

Children’s books aren’t just “nice.” They’re shaping your child.

That’s true for children of all ages, but it starts early—because toddlers are absorbing messages long before they have words for them. 

We talk about children’s books like they’re optional. Like they’re a cute add-on if you have time.

But books are doing something deeper than teaching ABCs.

Books are quietly telling your child:

• Who belongs
  

• Who is lovable
  

• Who gets to be the main character
  

• Who gets to feel safe and seen
  
  

And toddlers absorb those messages long before they have words for them.

That’s why children’s books matter.

The #1 reason children’s books matter: identity and pride

If you ask me what I care about most when it comes to books for little kids, it’s this:

I want them to see themselves.

I want kids who look like mine to grow up feeling normal in stories. Not “special.” Not “a lesson.” Not “the diversity book.”

Just… present. Centered. Loved. Joyful. Fully themselves.

Bonding and early literacy are a close second (because those reading moments are magic), but identity and pride is the foundation.

And I’ve watched it happen in my own house.

My daughter is 2 now and she demands book time. DEMANDS. Like if we skip it, she’s genuinely offended. 😭

That didn’t happen because she’s some rare child who loves routines.

It happened because reading became a rhythm. A comfort. A safe place.

What “DEI-conscious” books look like for toddlers (without the lecture)

For me, a DEI-conscious book for toddlers isn’t about teaching diversity.

It’s about normalizing who gets to exist at the center of the story.

Toddlers aren’t analyzing identity. They’re absorbing who belongs.

So I focus on books where kids who look like mine get to be curious and joyful and loved—without the story stopping to explain why.

A simple test I use:

If a toddler can love the book without an adult having to explain it, it’s working.

Red flags I avoid (on purpose)

• Tokenism (one brown face dropped into an otherwise “default” world)
  

• Hardship-only narratives (I don’t believe a child’s first introduction to identity should be struggle)
  

• “Diversity as a lesson” (books that feel like they’re teaching adults instead of delighting kids)
  
  

Toddlers deserve stories rooted in joy, safety, and love.

A real-life moment that reminded me why I do this

At my last vending event, a dad came over with his daughter. He was trying to buy one book.

Then she spotted my Ballet ABC’s book.

The cover has a beautiful picture of a little Black girl with curly pigtails.

A reflection of her.

She would not leave my booth until she had it.

And I swear my heart almost burst—because that exact moment is what people mean when they say “representation matters,” but it’s so much more powerful when you see it in real life.

That excitement. That recognition. That “this is for me” feeling.

That’s why I do this.

“Kids don’t notice differences.” Yes they do.

This is one of those phrases adults say when we’re uncomfortable.

But kids notice everything.

They notice:

• who shows up in stories
  

• who is treated as “normal”
  

• who is missing
  

• who gets to be brave, smart, sweet, magical, or admired
  
  

They might not have the vocabulary, but they are collecting information about the world.

So the question isn’t whether kids notice differences.

The question is: what message are they getting when most books silently suggest the hero doesn’t look like them?

What the right books actually change (in everyday life)

1) They build pride early—without making it “a lesson”

The ABC’s of My Black History (ages 1–4) is a simple alphabet book… but it’s also identity work.

It doesn’t wait until kids are “old enough” to learn who they are.

It weaves pride into something they’re already doing—learning letters.

Parents tell me it sparks early conversations.
For kids? It’s just their ABC book. And that ownership matters.

2) They expand what kids believe is possible

Career Dreams from A to Z (ages 3–6) shows kids of color in a wide range of careers—not as an “inspiring message,” but as a normal part of their world.

Families tell me it opens conversations they weren’t planning to have yet.

Kids keep coming back to it because they love finding their letter, their dream, their favorite page again—which builds reading stamina without forcing it.

3) They reduce power struggles around learning

My ABC practice books (ages 2–4) were created for kids who don’t want “practice,” but do light up when learning feels familiar.

If you’ve been searching for an incredible handwriting practice book, look for one that keeps practice short, joyful, and doable.

It’s not about perfection.

It’s about engagement.

For parents, that often looks like fewer battles.

 For kids, it builds fine motor skills, confidence, and a healthier relationship with learning before frustration becomes the default.

And because kids repeat the same strokes, it supports healthy letter formation without pressure.

Busy moms: you’re not failing. You just need a rhythm.

Let me say this plainly:

It’s not easy. And you’re doing the best you can.

Start with 10 minutes a day before bedtime.

Your little learner doesn’t need a perfect routine—just a consistent one.

That’s it.

When you move on to longer books, it can still be 10 minutes. Your child will get excited to come back the next night and find out what happens.

But make the time.

Your child deserves it—and honestly? you deserve that wind-down bonding time too.

Homeschool moms: let the books lead (and build the day around them)

If you homeschool, I don’t see books as something you only do at “read-aloud time.”

I see them becoming part of the rhythm of the day:

• ABC’s of My Black History → perfect for letter-of-the-week, morning basket, breakfast reading, circle time
   Read a few pages, pick a letter, talk about it, color it, connect it to your family or community.
  

• Career Dreams from A to Z → great for unit learning + conversation-based homeschooling
   One letter a day can spark: “What does this job do?” “Do we know anyone who does this?” Then draw it, pretend-play it, watch a short video.
  

• ABC practice books → short, low-pressure handwriting sessions
  Read a page, trace a letter together, stop. A few minutes a day builds stamina without turning learning into a battle.
  
  

My favorite approach is simple: start with the story, follow your child’s interest, and layer the learning naturally.

Your next step: the 10-minute habit

If you take one thing from this post, let it be this:

Commit to ten minutes a day of reading with books your child can see themselves in.

Those small moments build confidence, pride, and a love of learning—long before formal lessons ever begin.