Okay, I have to be honest here and admit that I just did a search of my blog to make sure I hadn't already covered this topic in an earlier post. ( Is this the first sign of dementia or Alzheimer's? It worries me sometimes how forgetful I can really be!) Although I've talked about books - often - on the blog, I don't think I've ever highlighted my childhood favorites. If I have and I missed it on the search, I apologize. I know I've mentioned the Little Golden Books that my mom once read to me, but surprisingly they don't really make my list of childhood favorites. The books that come to mind when I think back to my impressionable childhood years seem to be centralized around a 10- or 11-year-old me. These were the books I read on my own. These were the books that turned me into the reader I am today. One of them even inspired dreams of becoming a writer myself. The opening chapter of Harriet the Spy will always hold a special...