Every year it’s always the same. I manage to scrap together enough brain particles together to do about one review of a children’s book a week, skipping the occasional week when said particles are too wispy to coalesce. Then, by the time the end of the year rolls around. I am horrified to discover a gigantic pile of books on my shelf at home that I had every intention of reviewing. What the heck? How does this keep happening to me? Here’s a secret: Part of the reason I started doing my end-of-th...
Published on May 05, 2021 21:00