Finished Terry Pratchett's The Wee Free Men yesterday. Fun adventure story for kids, with some complicated what is a dream versus what is reality discussions thrown in for spice. I completely understood the heroines' tendency to correct the pronunciation of and provide definitions for people around her. It seems to be a habit among introverted bookworms.

Now I'm wondering where some of the books I had as a kid have gotten off to. Hopefully, they're all in Mom's attic. The Wee Free Men will be fun to read aloud some day, but so will The Light Princess. I'm going to be really upset if I've lost that book.