NaBloPoMo has been kicking my ass up and down the street. I knew posting every day would be hard, but I didn't know in exactly what way it would be hard. I just thought it would be arduous. Instead it's weirdly emotionally draining as well, plus once you clear away all the detritus that collects on top of your mind, or whatever the source of writing may be, you have to look at what's under all that crap, ie: why you write, what you're really writing about, whether you have anything to say. This is a terrifying endeavor.

Diana graduated from elementary school today. There was much hoo hah over how parents shouldn't make a big deal of this, none of us had 5th grade graduations, etc. And while all that is undoubtedly true, it's also true that it's a big deal to leave elementary school. You can't go back, and what you leave behind is a certain innocent voraciousness about school and reading that is never quite the same again. There's nothing like experiencing that ability to read for the first time—you open a secret door into all these other worlds.

So I thought I had posted for today last night, but I hadn't—some technical screwup on my part. Please do scroll down (or is it back, from here?) and tell the woman with the 3-year-old what great picture book you would recommend to her. Because (gee, is this maudlin enough?) it's a short time, really, that picture books are even a question. And then there you are with your 11-year-old, trying to think about what would be the right book to get them for graduation, because there's no way we're going with Oh The Places You'll Go!  And then you realize it's not an issue anyway because she's upstairs reading Dear Dumb Diary, and as terrifying as that all is, it's also really great. Onward and upwards!