Have you been wondering if my book Snappsy the Alligator (Did Not Ask to Be in This Book) is the right book for you? Or for your horse-loving nephew? The neighbor kid who wants to be in the CIA? Your son who loves baseball? That 8-year-old you know who is planning on joining the circus? Your farmer uncle? Your aunt the accountant? The college professor you always see at the bus stop? That weird old guy on the corner who threw an apple at you once?

The answer to all of these is YES. Don’t believe me? Look here:

(Many many thanks to my children, Sherman’s Books in Portland, and Josh Christie for helping me with this silliness.)

When I was a kid, I didn’t realize authors were real people. I read all the time, but the books were my friends, not the authors. The characters in the books were so real to me, it didn’t make sense that anyone actually made them up.

My Holy Trifecta of Authors when I was in fifth grade was Paula Danziger, Norma Klein, and Ellen Conford. They wrote stories where the things that happened to the main characters were things that might happen to me. The girls in the books were a lot like I was. Maybe their parents split up, or they liked food a lot, or they only knew how to face life’s chaos with humor and exasperated shrugs.

Ellen Conford’s books especially resonated with me. Her characters seemed like teased-out versions of me and my friends, threads of similarity pulled out and woven together into a book. And I learned things too. I learned about shaving my legs in Hail, Hail, Camp Timberwood. Me and the Terrible Two made me appreciate being an only child who lived on a corner with no other kids around. The Luck of Pokey Bloom sent me scheming with various moneymaking adventures (none of which made a cent). And To All My Fans, With Love, From Sylvie, which was the closest thing to a horror novel I read as a kid, mostly put a healthy fear of strange men in me, and made me very, very glad for my normal suburban life.

But most of all there was The Alfred G. Graebner Memorial High School Handbook of Rules and Regulations. This book! Not only did the main character and her friends seem so much like mine, but her name was actually Julie. Julie and her friends were hilarious, their life at school was ridiculous and real, and — probably in no small part because of our shared name — it seemed like Julie’s reactions to situations were exactly what mine would be. It was like reading about myself in an alternate reality.

As I got older, I understood in a vague way that children’s book authors were the ones who wrote the books, but a huge part of me still couldn’t grasp that the characters in the books weren’t real. Because they were. I see that now, that when an author creates someone well, that character is real to them, and becomes real to the reader. It’s magic though, trickery, wonder, and a very difficult concept for a 10-year-old in 1981. Or a 30-year-old in 2001.

When my oldest, Henry, was 4, we enrolled him in preschool. At Cottage Road Neighborhood School they studied music and cooking, put on plays every other week, and had a reading room piled with pillows. Henry loved it. I was in library school and reading huge piles of children’s books (for school! so fun). The couple that ran the school, Gloria and Michael, got pregnant, and their doctor told them that maybe Gloria shouldn’t shlep huge bags of books from the library to the preschoolers every week, so I volunteered to get the books for the rest of the year. Why not? I was in the library all the time anyway, and it’d be good librarian practice.

I was on the phone with Gloria talking about this, talking about the books I’d gotten on my initial runs, talking about how much I love children’s books. Gloria said, “Actually, Michael’s mother is…” and the name on the caller ID suddenly flashed in my memory. CONFORD. Michael’s mother is…Ellen Conford.

I burst into tears.

It was so weird. Ellen Conford was a real person? Not only was Ellen Conford a real person, but she had a son, and he was teaching musical theory to my 4-year-old?

Michael told me his mom had based a lot of the characters on him and his friends and I almost had to breathe into a paper bag.

Something shifted in me. I’ve always wanted to be a writer. I’ve always loved children’s books. But it wasn’t until that moment that I really realized who children’s book authors were. They were real people. They were alive, and had families, and played Scrabble.

I could do it.

I never met Ellen Conford. I don’t know what I would have done. Fainted or thrown up on her shoes, most likely.

Ellen Conford died on Friday, March 20.

Thank you, Ellen Conford, for writing about real children. And thank you for being a real, human writer, so I could become a real, human writer too.

Here it is, my annual holiday gift round-up. As usual, no pictures — don’t want the kids peeking anything from across the room. This list isn’t quite complete. I’m a little bit using it to figure out what else I need. Though we are being real hammers this year about not getting too much. Our kids just don’t need anything else, truly. They circled a bunch of stuff in catalogs that they already own. Which I took as affirming that they like their own stuff already, but I’m not buying Zuzu a second broom. That’s just silly.

Henry, age 10:

• The Lord of the Rings trilogy. He’s read and re-read The Hobbit and is ready for this, I think. I got him this nice edition (from my local indie bookstore).
• The False Prince by Jennifer Nielsen. I’ll admit I haven’t read this (yet) but it has gotten great reviews from people I trust, and Henry loved Nielsen’s Goblin Wars trilogy.
• Wildwood by Carson Meloy (another one I want to read, and that I think Henry will like)
• Odin’s Ravens. This is a game. It’s out of print, so I got it on eBay.
• King of Tokyo. Another game. Haven’t decided yet if I’m giving this to him, or to everyone.

Eli, age 7:

• Journey by Aaron Becker. A beautiful, beautiful picture book. We got it out of the library, and Eli declared it “the best book I’ve ever seen.” And every time he looked at it, he’d talk about how amazing he thinks it is. So not only did I get this for him, I bought all the copies they had at the bookstore. Teachers are getting this one too. (I am also seriously tempted to get Eli one of the prints, too. Thinking.)
• Flora and Ulysses by Kate DiCamillo. Haven’t decided yet whether this is for Eli or for everyone.
• The kid wants a wooden toy boat. A lot. This is the one he wants, I might make a half-hearted attempt to find one that’s slightly larger.
• Ok, so Eli wants a tank that shoots at things (like, really shoots) and also a sword (like he doesn’t already have enough swords).  I’m definitely not getting the tank, because I’d like everyone in the house to keep both of their eyeballs. My compromise to all this might be to get him a punching bag. I still have to look into this more, but he is a kid who likes big movement, and I think a big thing to punch at would be helpful.
• Both boys are getting (together, I mean) this Lego Ewok village thing. They super duper asked for it. And I like getting Legos because they occupy the kids for so long, and also (mostly?) we have a dedicated place for them to go, already, in the house (a Lego bin).
• Both boys are getting Fantasy: An Artist’s Realm by Ben Boos. Because it’s a little ridiculous how many times we’ve gotten it out of the library.

On that last point, I’ll pause here to say that, at this point, having four kids, I see toys they might want — fairy treehouses or doll houses, or play kitchens, or dolly strollers, and I know they would love them, but we just don’t have room. I feel conflicted about this. Like, is this it, forever? “Here are our established toy systems. We do not deviate from these systems. You can have Legos, toy food, blocks, or those little hard plastic Schleich animals. You may not choose any toy that is its own piece of furniture. Do you want a game? A book? You can have those. You want a cradle for your doll? Sorry, honey. We’ll have to get rid of your dresser to make that happen.”

Zuzu, age 5:

• So last year we got her this Learning Resources School Set, and she has played with it every day since. If you have a kid who likes to play school, you need to get this. I wish I could give it to her all over again. Or something. At any rate, I got some teacher-y things at the dollar store. Some flash cards and a counting thing that I think is stickers you can put on the window?
• The girl loves her shoes. And clothes. I don’t want to pigeon-hole her too much, but oh boy she loves shoes. She has a pair of cowboy boots she wears every day, but they’re getting small, and one day I was trying to get stuff done and showed her how to pin stuff onto Pinterest, and she made a whole board of shoes she wants.  She’s going to get these shimmery blue cowboy boots for Christmas. And also some clothes from the Gap that have sparkles on them. (And sunglasses for the rest of us, so we can look at her, with all this glitter.)
• She’s had a bunch of dress-up tiaras in her five years, and they’ve all broken. I don’t really get too much into the princess stuff, but she does love a tiara every now and again, and is always heartbroken when they break. So Z and Ramona are both getting sturdier tiaras.
• Zuzu really wants a window-washing kit. I don’t know whether to be horrified (like she’s so repulsed by my housekeeping that she’s going to take over the job) or thrilled (she’s going to take over the job!). Anyway. She’s cute.
• She showed some interest in a potholder loom, and, honestly, when the boys started making some of those rainbow loom bracelet things, Zuzu turned out to be kind of an instant genius at it. She completely understood the whole weaving concept, while the rest of us were getting frustrated and inadvertently shooting rubber bands across the room.
• Did you know that there’s a Hello Kitty graphic novel? A few of them! My pal Colby Sharp says they’re pretty good. Zuzu’s going to love them.

Ramona, age 3

Oh, poor fourth child, who is so happy to go along with everything. What will I get you?

• Stay: The True Story of Ten Dogs by Michaela Muntean. This is such a sweet story. Ramona loves this book, but we didn’t own it.
• A dress with POCKETS. The girl loves pockets.
• One of those study tiaras that Zuzu is getting.
• Ramona’s favorite gift from last Christmas was a black lab doggie I got at Goodwill. He looks like this. Last weekend we were at a birthday party, and one of the birthday presents was a tiny version of that doggie, in a little bag. Ramona got uncharacteristically anxious; she started chewing on her thumb and looked extremely agitated. Basically — she was trying to hold it in and not run over and take that dog-in-a-bag because she wanted it so much.
• Something else? She loves her doll stuff. Maybe a doll thing. Or more play food. She likes that a lot too. Or something else that one of you suggests?

Santa might be bringing everyone a Lego minifigure in their stockings. He’s also bringing them candy canes. And bookmarks. And the usual round-up of oranges and apples.

The kids all have also requested Lego sets to give from each other (not sure about that sentence syntax — they want to buy each other Lego sets).

That’s the round-up right now. I’ll post more in the comments if things change.

Anyone who knows me knows what huge Adam Rex fans we are here. We read everything he has any part in (just the other day we were reading his discarded to-do lists for a bedtime story) (not really) (but we would if we could).

So I was so glad that Adam somehow managed to schedule the release of Moonday to coincide with the first day of school.  The kids had Moonday waiting for them when they got off the bus.

You won’t be surprised to hear me gush about it on this week’s episode of Brain Burps About Books. It’s a gorgeous, lovely, amazing book, a wondrous book. Moonday proves (not that we doubted it) that Adam Rex is not a one-note writer/illustrator. This book is dreamy in a way his other books are not, but in a way that we all get (note: I mean dreamy as in “like a dream” not like “Davy Jones is dreamy”).

And just look how that book glows! It illuminates Henry’s face like the book is actually the moon! [Insert requisite pun/joke here about Henry therefore being the sun/son.]

You can hear my review and read more about this week’s podcast here, or listen directly in iTunes here.

Oh, p.s. I forgot to post before: I was asked to make a Celebridot. This is a site celebrating the Peter Reynolds book The Dot, about making your mark, and the Celebridot site has dots made by…this feels weird to say…celebrities? Like I’m one of those? Whatever: I was honored to be asked and I had so much fun making my dot I can’t even tell you. My dot is all about the magical power of doodling. Go check it out!

This week on Brain Burps About Books I review How to Be a Cat by Nikki McClure. I am so in love with the cut paper illustrations in this book, the simple text, the use of white space, and the cats’ expressions most of all. This book is gorgeous.

You can hear my review on this week’s episode of Brain Burps, or listen right in iTunes here.

So, remember how I was hollering with love for Matthew Cordell’s HELLO! HELLO! last month? I have given this book to people, forced it on people, talked about how much I love it.

But you know what happens when you turn off electronic devices? I’ll tell you. Your kids have no idea how electronic devices work. Will this make them look like wingnuts in today’s society? Time will tell. My kids might look like wingnuts anyway.

Since we have been repeatedly reading Hello! Hello!:

• Ramona asked me to help her turn on the Etch-a-Sketch.
• The girls were pretending holiday cards were laptops. Ramona, while “looking for games” started to lick the “laptop.” Because I’m always tasting my computer and looking for games?
• We got an old typewriter out of the basement.* The kids used the typewriter to write such messages as “we will take over email” and “twitter is now ours” (as well as “raw eggs are good” and “gummy bears are chasing me” so I’m not sure how much we can trust their world domination plans).

* We continue to give our children some kind of modified 1970s upbringing, between pencils and typewriters and our regular showings of Get Smart and Kung Fu. Plus I got them a vintage Spirograph for Christmas. I really hope we’re not harming them by withholding modern conveniences like Justin Bieber.

Our Little Free Library has been getting some press!

Telly Halkias wrote an opinion piece in the Portland Press Herald.

The local free paper, The Sentry, featured us in a great article.

And the fabulous Carter Higgins wrote about us on Design Mom!

Thanks so much to all our supporters! Stop on by and I’ll hook you up with a book!

Do you know about Little Free Library? The first time I heard about it, I had an immediate dream to have a Little Free Library of my own. The problem is that we have a house we’re constantly tearing apart, and four kids hanging from us needing some sort of parenting, and all those other life things, and taking the time out to make a little wooden box we’d fill with books seemed sort of frivolous. So I never mentioned it.

Then one day Dave and I were talking about community, and giving back, and teaching the kids about service, and suddenly I was rambling on, and on, about Little Free Libraries and how they embody all of my favorite notions of service: literacy, serving your immediate neighborhood, and fun and surprises where you don’t expect them (ok, I don’t think that last one is really a legitimate “notion of service,” but it’s one of my favorite things about life).

And Dave, wonder that he is, thought it was a great idea and started helping me build one the next day. We were able to use leftover shingles so it matches our house. We involved the kids as much as could in the design and building. And of course we had to put in a light — we get a lot of late-night dog walkers, and I wanted them to be able to pick books at midnight. (Another dream I didn’t know I had: the desire to give late-night dog walkers a way to choose books in the dark.)

I am so happy and proud about this. I’ve been spending a lot of time staring at the Little Free Library, hand over my heart, and sighing.

Plus it’s my first library job! I’ve got to put that MLS to use sometime!

Here’s the sticker we designed for the inside. We made it so it looks like a library card in a pocket, but it’s got our address, and, under date due, says, “WHENEVER.”

The Library at night.

If you’re in South Portland, stop on by! Little Free Library #2354 open and ready for reading!

Today we fete Zuzu, who is now 4 (and also celebrate this fun brief time when, until August, we have kids who are 2, 4, 6, and 8 years old). We are making cherry cupcakes today, since apparently cherry cupcakes mean birthday. For her birthday dinner she requested:

• meatballs
• broccoli, for the people who want broccoli
• carrots, for the people who want carrots, not me though, make sure you put down ‘NOT ZUZU’
• smoothies
• berries
• salad for the grownups
• bread with butter.

Sounds good to me. And I’ll leave you with this, which you’re going to have to view as a rare white unicorn glimpsed in the forest (I used to say “it’s like seeing Snuffleupagus” until I found out that now everyone can see Snuffleupagus). Zuzu often picks up a book, and reads it to herself in this incredibly hilarious (to us) fashion, making up the story based only loosely on the pictures and more on what people are saying near her at the time, and whatever else might be going through her head. We all, all of us, here, love watching her do this, BUT…if she knows she’s being watched, she stops immediately. Last week I saw her reading to herself in this manner, and tried to get a video, but I was too far away, and next to the humming aquarium, so you can’t really hear her. But you can get a sense of the drama involved, perhaps. (The drama of her reading, I mean.) (Though also maybe I mean the drama of stalking my children as I hide amongst the furniture, careful not to disturb them in their native habitat.)

Annoying thing that toddlers and preschoolers do:

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

“We are playing house,” says Zuzu. I won’t even get into what this means for how they think I do my housekeeping.