(image taken from Wikia)
Today is Roger Hargreaves seventy-sixth birthday; I am indebted to my Google search engine for apprising me of this monumental, momentous occasion. When I was a small child, being read to aloud was one of favorite past times; it soothed me, cajoled me for some brief moments from my otherwise loud and rambunctious career as a tom boy, made me feel closer to my parents and siblings, and simply put, made me immensely happy. Still, there are few things I enjoy more than the sound of a confident voice reading aloud one of my favorite stories, or a new poet. My father used to read the stories from the Mister Men and Little Miss series to my siblings and me. The plots and character development were linear, sweet, but poignant and, in combination with colorful and geometric illustrations, perfect entertainment for children, and adults alike. These books are an ideal gift idea for nieces, nephews, sons, daughters, children, young and old at heart. With reading and writing so integral to the woman I am, to my thirst for new knowledge and further expansion of my emotional spectrum, to my connectivity with my own thoughts and feelings and philosophies and dogmas, as well as those of all the people around me, I thank my parents, my older sister, Elizabeth, my grandparents, and all those other caregivers and babysitters for taking the time to read aloud to me as a little girl. You have all given me the most beautiful, precious gift I will ever know.