Sunday afternoons we talk. We loll in chairs, go on long drives, lie all over the bed, throw quilts on the grass or linger over lunch – it doesn’t so much matter how, we just talk. On one of those days, in the midst of all the conversation, I mentioned that a friend had asked for advice about some troubles her little girl was facing.
I knew what I would do. I would be reading. I had a couple of picture books in mind; a chapter book and a couple of poems.
Those books weren’t ‘about’ the things troubling this little girl – but they were what I had read to my children when they were facing the same issues.
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