When I was three years old, I remember sneaking into my older sister's room and pulling her book of Mother Goose rhymes off the shelf. I sat on the floor and looked at the pictures, remembering the rhymes my parents had read me and longing for the day when I could read them myself.

About a year later, I could read them. And I began to write my own.

I wrote a lot of other things, too—stories, magazine articles, university essays—but I've always come back to poetry and nursery rhymes. I'm convinced there is nothing more important for kids to develop language skills. And imagination, too.

This is Cole. He likes to consider himself both my agent and my muse. And just like Nat, he can sleep anywhere—though his preferred beds include the books I'm reading, the papers I'm writing on, and my laptop keys.

Cole supervises my work in a cozy apartment in Toronto, Ontario. We enjoy jazz music, ice cream, and staying up past our bedtime.

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