Historically I’ve made it through reading this book aloud by lightly fanning myself, concentrating hard, and taking a few gulps of air during the tricky parts.

This time when one of my kids selected The Little Match Girl to be read by me….I knew I wouldn’t make it.

No amount of wild fanning, strategic pauses, or creative voice intonations could cover up that I was going to have a good cry in the middle of this book.

My kids were incredulous—see how skillful I’ve been in the past at covering for myself!— and then became giggly.

Sigh. This must be middle-aged me. Can’t-make-it-through-a-children’s-storybook-without-crying me.

Tough-as-nails—me.

(PS I realize the child’s hands in the picture are grubby. He had just come inside from being in the great outside. My children—are grubby for much of the day. I do make them wash. Just not for pictures—apparently.)