I have no real memory of being read to, as a child.
I once asked my Dad whether he and Mum had read to me, and apparently they did...but as soon as I learned to read, apparently I insisted on reading myself instead of letting them read to me.
So as it stands, I have only one clear memory of being read to by my mother.
The book was Slugs by Shaun Hutson Slugs which probably tells you pretty much everything you need to know about my family ;-)
In fairness though, I should explain.
Once upon a time the family (Mum, Dad, brother (16), sister (13), Ceindreadh (12)) were on a holiday in Donegal and took a trip across the border. Ended up in a town where all the shops had closed for lunch. So while waiting for the shops to open, Mother dearest decided to read to us all, and that was the book she was reading at the time (facepalm)
Naturally of course I think all three of us kids insisted on reading the book ourselves afterwards - in fairness to the parents, they never tried to stop us reading books on the grounds that they might have been too old for us.
Interestingly enough, while my mother had no problem reading us a scene where a guy gets eaten alive by slugs, she carefully censored any mentions of sex. Again, that also tells you a lot about my family.
(see, I knew there was a reason I turned out the way I did! ;-)