Between night feeds and preschool drop-off, between the baby who needs holding and the four-year-old who needs a snack — I was a woman who read. This is how I've been finding her again, twelve stolen minutes at a time.
Read the Review →The book I finished in the quiet stretch between night feeds — the kind that makes you resent morning.
The ones that made it into the rotation without a single argument — and the ones the baby has started grabbing off the shelf too.
No life lessons. No growth. Just a great story and the fifteen minutes I stole for it.
Questions, themes, and the chapter we all had to put the book down for.
"A mother who reads raises a child who dreams. But first — she gets to dream too."
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