Today my kid complained to me that she had finished her schoolwork early and now had five hours of class time coming up with nothing to do but read, and she needs to know that she has chosen the wrong audience.

I don’t know how many books I’ve read this year. But what if our counts don’t matter, but the words that echoed or broke our hearts, the stories that stuck with us, the ones that we put down or couldn’t, the ideas that changed us? Tell me those stories. I don’t care about your count or mine.

My eight year old: “I want to get a book. And a life, someday.”

#relatable

Sure, AI is a bit of a creep, but I love that I didn’t even need to write a post before the algorithm started sending funny, queer nerds my way.

Hi, new friends!