For weeks now, he has been squirreled away in his little room in the basement, under the stairs, coming up only to sharpen a colored pencil. (There was this period in-between his trips to the pencil sharpener, when I noticed a pile of brown dust dropping onto the floor, and opened the cabinet to find the pencil sharpener spewing out shavings.) Finally, he came up for air last night, and spread all of the pages on the kitchen table, and announced, “I”m DONE!”
The Diary of the Red Eye Tree Frog is completed. Illustration plot, character names and everything in-between is the companion book that accompanies the stuffed frog that forced the sewing machine out of hiding. (Coming to a store near you as a boxed set.)
(I adore the little drawn-on tape markings.)
He asked me to read it over, to see if it was a good story. It was… but I could barely keep my attention focused on the plot, because I was completely transfixed by this little thing:
Notice how, on the cover, the little frog’s hand is cut-off on the side of the page,
and then, it continues here, on the next page — see that little orange mark?
“It’s called Transition, Mom.”
