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Beloved Children’s Books

As far back as I can remember, I’ve always had a book in my hand. I’d come home from the library with more books than I could carry and force my parents to read to me even before I could read them myself. One of my earliest memories is my dad reading to me when he came home from work. Although, these sessions always ended up with me sitting on his stomach flipping pages while he took a “quick” nap :). Since books have such fond memories for me, I thought it’d be neat to revisit some favorites:

The Little Engine That Could by Watty Piper. I think I can I think I can I think I can…

We Were Tired of Living in a House by Liesel Moak Skorpen. Maybe the thousands of times I read this planted the seed for my love of traveling?

Blueberries for Sal by Robert McCloskey.

Katy and the Big Snow by Virginia Lee Burton. Snow!

Thunder Cake by Patricia Polacco. This book taught me how to tell the distance of a thunderstorm. However, I’m still scared silly of them, so I’m not sure the book was particularly effective!

The House on East 88th Street (1st book in the Lyle the Crocodile series) by Bernard Waber. I loved Lyle the Crocodile and the unique cast of characters.

Edith & Big Bad Bill by Dare Wright. My dad loves reminding me that this book is chock full of political incorrectness and really not suitable for kids! I need to find a copy and reread now that I’m older.

The Jolly Pocket Postman by Janet and Allan Ahlberg. Such a neat concept and full of letters/notes you can pull out and read!

The Mitten by Jan Brett. I think it’s a known fact that Joan Brett is the queen of illustrated children’s books. I particularly loved the borders on each page full of extra pictures.

The Little House on the Prairie series by Laura Ingalls Wilder. One of my all-time favorites. I couldn’t get enough of the Ingalls family and their endless series of adventures. I wanted to jump into this story and become a part of it each time I read them.

The Boxcar Children by Gertrude Chandler Warner. My brother had a really cool bed with a bookshelf in the headboard (I still want one) and it was filled with the Boxcar children stories. I thought there must have been at least a hundred books back then. It seemed like a never-ending series, which made me immensely happy.