Out of My Tree

Here endeth 24 hours of mayhem and – if this were not the blog it is I’d be eulogising my husband for his (unpaid) vicarious services to the international megacorp for whom I work. If I weren’t already married, I’d be asking him again. Fortunately for me we are, because on the strength of the last few weeks, I’m not that sure he’d accept…

The first draft of my complicated training deck is complete (minutes before my deadline was due) and so I’m writing my blog as reward to myself

Whilst waiting for husband to return home and accept the baton of emergency chores/childminding and sustenance provision, I benched my project anxiety and the certainty of a near-allnighter ahead and settled down to read (or look at) the appropriately titled (for the situation) In My Tree by Sara Gillingham and Lorena Siminovich. Oddly enough, Monkey-face selected it and brought it to me to read. This delighted me as I picked it up in the fantastic PaperSource store a block away from my Seattle hotel on a business trip earlier on in the year. It was my first trip away from the offspring and I spent an unfeasible amount in that store in part due to parental guilt and in part due to business-trip boredom.

It’s a beautiful book, with a felt owl finger puppet that pushes its way through the centre of the book and the heart of the story, all oranges and browns and seasonal-coloured leaves. I’d been home two weeks and found the same book (never seen prior to my trip) sat on the shelves of Oliver Bonas, along with a raft of others in the series (In My Pond, In My Forest, etc) which I foresee may well make their way onto our shelves or into your giftbag if you have a child in my vacinity… A quick browse on Amazon shows the series is also available in French!

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