I read a book.
Yes, a book. It didn’t take me very long to finish, since it was only 143 pages long, and it had fairly big print.
Why is this interesting? Well, to be frank, it’s probably not to a lot of people. Hopefully, you, dear reader, will find this, if not interesting, perhaps intriguing.
I re-read The Baby-sitters Club. #15. Little Miss Stoneybrook…and Dawn. It’s by Ann M. Martin, but maybe not really, because her name is on all of the books but I am reasonably sure she didn’t write a lot of them, but I’m also not sure at what point she was like “Hey, I can’t keep churning these out week after week, can a girl get some ghost writers?”
Why, pray tell, did I reread a book from my own childhood, that is probably not even relevant anymore what with the Dork Diaries and Captain Underpants that kids read today? One that is dated, old, and written far too simple for my adult brain?
Because it was fun. I enjoyed it. I felt like a kid again. Now, keep in mind, before you rush off to go buy up all the books from your own young adulthood to re-read on my recommendation alone, that I am a girl prone to extreme nostalgia. I love to revel in my past and remember the feels and the happies of years gone by.
But what I discovered most of all was that it reminded me why I love reading, and why I will always love reading, and I am so very thankful that was instilled in me at an early age. I don’t relate to 13-year-old babysitters anymore, but I remember that it made me feel like my friends and I could start something like that. Just like books have inspired me in myriad ways across my 34 years.
Moral of the story? Let yourself be a kid again with a good book that’s way too young for you. It’ll refresh your soul. And you’ll probably get a good laugh.