Day 32 in  #BookSpine365 . Visit a title a day from my bookshelf. Month Two. So let me tell you a little bit about nostalgia: there is nothing that compares with the scent of book being curled up as a child near your favorite little corner tugging at big pages with little fingers. Such memories include Little Golden Books with the classic shining spine and sturdy back, Choose Your Own Adventure books, and the beloved series of The Berenstain Bears . Written by Stan & Jan Berenstain and continued by their son Mike-the series has celebrated over 50 years of writing with over 300 titles. This copy, The Berenstain Bears and G-Rex Bones is on my Kindle rich with illustrations in black and white as shown in eink, or in color via the Kindle app if you prefer to read via smart device or computer. I purchased this copy for my son (and who's kidding-my trip down memory lane) for the great story line and lengthy read. In a nutshell, Bear Country has a mystery and it's up ...

How do I get up there, Mommy? I want to fly. I want these things flapping on my side to swiftly embrace the sky. I can't figure it out. I looked at those fuzzy balls of fur slowly making their way up in those cotton balls and trees blowing up probably by an invisible man. How do I get up there, Mommy? I want to fly. I want these things flapping on my side to swiftly embrace the sky. It must be a magic trick Some sort of balloon in helium magic wisp of puffing up like a cartoon and have the sun hit your face like an orange fire ball in the afternoon. So she bends down softly and says, Do you wish to know how to fly? Well, surely my toddler brain knows I want to go up that high. Then she arches her back and swoops me up a bundle of chocolate with flapping arms lifts me to the ceiling and says there is no limit when you got a little push and falling will never be your harm. See how I get up there, Mommy? Look at me, fly. I finally got these thing...

to be a kid again. to have dusty knees celebrated by mud pies and overgrown grass graciously gliding upon the white t-shirts that made mothers angry when scrubbing our stains. to have that look within the eyes when lights are strategically placed to endure the Christmas snow, blizzards within the northeast which one has grown up to adore. to fall with the leaves and dance with golden corn built with bonfires and pumpkins upon a rickety hayride to wonder in a tulip and gaze upon morning dew when flowers begin budding against the frozen ground which was replaced by a new season. to be a kid again. to have no worries, no care no idealizations of the first and fifteenth the gas and electrical energies the over plentiful but once barren pantries and warm socks adorned with special trimming. to be a kid again. to wonder in amazement and find pleasure in double dutch flying bubbles, bicycles, dolls and action figures, playing grown up with play make up; now a blur of ...