In the early light of a summer morning, my 2-year-old daughter toddles down the stairs with her bunny and favorite book in hand. She climbs sleepily into my lap with her matted hair and koala print pajamas, and while the birds and squirrels come to life outside our window, we read “Blueberries for Sal.”
“Kerplunk, kerplunk,” my daughter says as she flips through the pages, following Sal as she drops blueberries into her empty bucket only to eat them a minute later.
