What I love most is how Marvels reminds you that wonder, fear, and inspiration all go hand in hand. It’s about the people behind the headlines, and what it means to live in a world full of gods, monsters, and miracles.

What I love most about A Hero Reborn is how it balances heart and heroism. It’s not just about punching bad guys—it’s about finding your place in a world that doesn’t slow down for you. Tim Drake embodies that perfectly, and by the end, you can’t help but root for him as he earns his cape and mask.

The illustrations by Aristides Ruiz and Joe Mathieu are bright and full of movement, perfectly matching the rhythm and excitement of the text. We stopped on nearly every page to look closer at the butterflies and talk about what was happening. It’s always fun when a book becomes both a story and a mini science lesson without feeling like one.

Marc Brown’s illustrations are just as charming as I remembered—full of little details that make each page fun to linger over. And while Arthur’s world feels familiar and safe, the story also gently teaches about courage, kindness, and not letting fear get the best of you.

Sometimes you just need a book that makes you laugh out loud—and Captain Underpants and the Big, Bad Battle of the Bionic Booger Boy delivers exactly that. Dav Pilkey is a master at mixing silliness, action, and a dash of toilet humor into something kids can’t put down (and adults can’t help but chuckle at too).

Carrie Brownell’s The Golden Hour is a heartwarming and beautifully crafted story, one that feels both timeless and gently new. It invites young readers (and those young at heart) into a magical moment tucked into an ancient hall, where carved angels hide a secret light and an ordinary Christmas becomes extraordinary.

What I love is how this bedtime parody pokes affectionate fun at our modern habits—with perfect gentle humor and beautifully playful illustrations. It reminds us to hit pause, unplug, and reclaim that old-fashioned, glowing warmth of analog bedtime.

Reading Cast Into Twilight after talking with Keller Marie gave me a deeper appreciation for her creativity and vision. It’s suspenseful, mysterious, and leaves you eager for the next installment. If you enjoy survival fantasy with a fresh edge, this is one to put on your list.

When I was a kid, our school library had the full Tintin series—or at least I thought it did. Every album was there on the shelf… except Tintin and the Picaros. For years, it was the elusive missing piece of the collection, the one story I never got to read. Fast forward to now, and I finally sat down with it for the first time. And let me tell you—there’s something pretty special about getting a “new” Tintin adventure as an adult.

The story follows the eccentric inventor Septimus Bean and his mysterious “amazing machine.” No one knows what it’s supposed to do—including Septimus himself. Naturally, this leads to confusion, criticism, and ultimately, a wonderfully unexpected discovery. The beauty of the book is that it celebrates curiosity, persistence, and the idea that not everything has to have a clear purpose right away to be worthwhile.

One of the joys of revisiting this book is seeing Hergé lean fully into his late-series flair for eccentricity. The stakes are high—hostage situations, volcanic islands, secret tunnels—and yet, between Allan’s thuggish antics and Haddock’s volcanic temper, it’s impossible not to chuckle. And then there’s Laszlo Carreidas, the ultra-rich tycoon whose paranoid, penny-pinching quirks make him an instant classic in the Tintin cast.

The adventure begins when opera diva Bianca Castafiore descends upon Captain Haddock’s estate. From there, a missing emerald, eccentric paparazzi, paparazzo mix‑ups, a persistent broken step, and a mischievous magpie turn everything into a comedy of red herrings. Yet the real brilliance is Hergé’s genius at building suspense from nothingness—with a perfectly structured farce reminiscent of classic stage comedy.

What makes this book so magic is its cumulative structure—each page builds on the last, and kids love predicting what comes next. The gentle rhymes and artful illustrations by Don Wood create the perfect sleepy rhythm, followed by a surprise that snaps the whole house—and you—wide awake

The book is small in size but big in charm. Told from the perspective of a wise owl, it gently walks young readers through what makes her special—how she flies silently at night, cares for her chicks, and lives a life quite different from the birds we usually see during the day. The story is simple, sweet, and quietly empowering.

The illustrations are soft and welcoming, with just the right mix of realism and imagination. It’s the kind of book that invites you to slow down, look around, and appreciate the little things in nature. And when it’s coming from someone who lives in the same region and draws so much inspiration from the local landscape—it hits even harder.

The pages are full of beautiful photography and easy-to-follow advice that makes you want to dig right in (literally). Whether it’s layering plants, mixing heights and shades, or choosing varieties that complement each other across seasons, this book gave me tons of new ideas for making my backyard even more inviting and colorful.

I really appreciated how this book shows that adventure doesn’t have to mean laser beams or pirate treasure. Sometimes, the most thrilling stories are about communication, empathy, and critical thinking. Plus, the usual joy of flipping back and forth to see where your decisions lead is always a blast.

What really hit me this time around is how much these stories still resonate. They’re simple, yes, but never shallow. The quiet depth of their friendship, the patience, the small acts of kindness—it all feels even more meaningful now. Plus, the illustrations still have that soft, earthy charm that makes every page feel warm and familiar.

Watching my kid confidently flip through pages and sound out names like "Millennium Falcon" with Jedi-like determination was the highlight of my day. There’s something really special about seeing them feel empowered by a story they already love.

What I admired most—both on the podcast and in the pages—is Meghan’s conversational tone. She writes as if she’s sitting beside you, quietly guiding you through memory and emotion. Poems like “This House” are especially powerful, tracing the fragile journey from brokenness to rebuilding It’s a book that doesn’t just tell you what happened—it invites you to feel it and to emerge with the poet.