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I don’t remember not loving words.

I could read and write before I entered school. Granted, it was pretty rudimentary stuff – because, y’know, I’m clever, but I’m not that level brilliant – but still, once you have bat down pat cat, fat and sat aren’t much of a stretch. (See what I did there? Just a wee, little crack-me-up.)

I don’t remember it, but I figure my parents must’ve read to me a lot when I was a kid. I do remember asking my dad to spell things for me or tell me what something meant, and he did, constantly, until he didn’t want to anymore, so then I remember...