This morning I read Gumbo Lily's post, which led me to Pom Pom's post, which got me thinking about children's books. Why do we love them so? We seem to have reservoirs of memory and emotion, stored up in their pictures alone. So I decided to share with you some of my earliest children's books -- or rather, to share with you the images that fastened themselves to my childish mind, and never let go.
One of the earliest. The inscription says that my grandmother gave this to me. This book was read to me, rather than my reading it on my own. I know this because all the pages are equally familiar, as if an adult were in charge of going from page one to the end.