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Children's Books

Ok, so let me just admit right now, straight off the bat. My attempt at NaNoWriMo was a washout. Not only do I not have the attention span to write something of that length, but my efforts were also thwarted by goings on at home, Mikey deciding to stop sleeping and then illness. I haven't written anything to do with my novel for about a week, I did get further than I expected though. It turns out that this attempt was the most words I've ever written for one project. Blasts my 10,000 school essays out of the water, so that's something.

I did not plan the novel well, I had nothing before I started writing it which really hindered my efforts. I may still finish it one day, but not today.

While writing it, however, I was blessed with pure unadulterated inspiration. The most magical idea for a children's book. I adore children's literature, I'm not talking about teen lit, which I dislike for the most part, or board books for babies because for the most part they're pretty dull. But things written for children between the ages of 4 and 11, I could just sit in the children's section of the library and read all day. 

As I don't have an older child of my own, I'm going to have to ask here. What sort of books do your older children enjoy?

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I am a 24 year old British stay at home mother to a two year old boy. Married to a U.S. soldier and currently living in Germany.

I have seen the Vatican from the very top of St Peter's Basilica, the mud in the World War I trenches outside Ypres. I have walked through Montmartre side streets bustling with people in the evening, gotten lost in the streets of Greenwich Village NYC, run through cornfields on the Welsh border and sat outside with a cup of tea watching fireflies in the fields of the outer Chicago suburbs.

I have held the hands of others through addiction, fear, suicide, despair and come out the other side. I have left everything behind to begin anew.
I have fought mental illness and walked through snow in the mountains of the lake district, England. I have explored the morgue in the bowels of an abandoned hospital on a summer evening, climbed to the top of scaffolding on the outside of a five floor warehouse to look at the city lights of Nottingham at night and I have watched the sun setting on the Texas horizon.

I have held my son's tiny hand through the plastic window on an isolette in the NICU ward. Walked, speaking only in whispers, through the catacombs beneath the ground on the outskirts of Rome and seen the fireworks over Heidelberg castle.