As a parent, I read a lot of children’s books. Each time I pick up one of these literary masterpieces, I can’t help but stare at amazement at the words in front of me. It’s hard to believe that such a delightful work of art was conceived of, written, edited, printed, distributed, and sold by and to adults.
When I was younger, I used to like to tell people that kids ruin lives. I did it in part to get a rise out of them (because righteous yet unfounded indignation is often amusing). But I also meant it literally: once you have kids, your life as you know it ends and a completely different one begins.