Today, as Chandler and I were walking home from my delicious Birthday dinner at Al Di La, on 5th Avenue in Park Slope, we crossed at President Street going East and stopped in our tracks. We nearly stepped on a pristine floppy, soft and glossy white children’s book buried under the shadow of the dimly lit concrete sidewalk. Clearly it had been freshly-dropped, as it had not yet had the horror of being trampled upon or smeared into the sewer in close proximity to the corner, but at this late hour no stroller-pushing Mommy was in sight.
Through my wine-goggles, the children’s book appeared vaguely familiar. I picked it up. The white background stood out brightly contrasting against the night, a colorful fuschia and round figure centered upon it.
The title read, “Little Miss Wise”. It was from the Little Miss series books! What a coincidence! What Luck!*
Chandler and I looked at each other with eyes wide-opened and roared with laughter. My mother used to read that to my sister and I before bed. We had a few of them, and clearly this was our favorite. Of all of the 30+ books which exist, this one lay directly at my Wise-Old feet!