She does not read yet. Still, to her, books are objects to hold. Pages are to be thumbed, flipped, bent, tasted. Pictures are things to touch, caress, and kiss.
Reading is sitting in a chair, mom or dad as a cushion, while milk is drunk and llama llama rhymes drift into her ears. Or it is storytime, standing 2 inches from the page the librarian holds up, giving a hard stare to the story she tells.
A book is thrown to the ground, pushed away, in favor of the one she really wants. She may choose to watch a favorite movie, decide to bang on the back door until we go outside, but a book is a thing she returns to when she sits in her bed or pulls everything off the shelf. A book is how she ends her day before she goes to sleep.
Maybe books will be her everything, or maybe just something to use to pass the time. Whichever way, she will be a reader.