Daisy and I have been enjoying Beverly Cleary's Socks this week. So much. She has hunted up her stuffed tabby toy and reads the funny parts over to herself, rolling around the floor howling with laughter.
I loved this book when I was little, although Socks' misadventures seemed downright sorrowful at the time--they weigh less heavily on me now. Now I am struck by the tenderness with which the author treats the young parents who own Socks. Their poverty, their tiredness, and their consistent kindness, good spirits, and delight in their baby are rendered with such respect. A joy to read.