This afternoon, I decided to read Lily a book from my childhood. We've finished The Hobbit already and we're sort of in between chapter books right now. I plucked off of my shelf A Treasury of Children's Literature and began to flip through the pages, remembering fondly the many stories I had memorized from it as a child. To my surprise, I came across this page:
This book was given to me for my fifth birthday from my Grandma Aggie, whom I adored. Grandma Aggie was my grandmother's mother and was the sweetest woman to ever live. When she purchased this book, I'm sure she had no idea how much comfort this book would bring to me in later years. When I transferred to a new elementary school, I brought this book with me on my first day and read it during recess. When I wasn't invited to slumber parties in the third grade, I would fall asleep in my sleeping bag on my floor, reading from its pages. Each morning before school, I would read this book alone at the kitchen table while I ate cold cereal. I used to dream that someday I would wear a wedding dress just like Cinderella's and that I would be beautiful like Snow White. I'm sure that when Grandma Aggie found this book for me, she couldn't fathom that I might one day be reading this book to my own little girl. How grateful I am to her for giving this book to me.
Me, at the age of five. Who does this look like?