These are a few pages of my book“I love you more than anything…”

Please read and enjoy, then order a bunch.The first printing sold out quickly, so now you have

the opportunity to buy several for all those you love.And they will give you hugs and kisses

to thank you.

To order books :

rebecca.jane.reeder@gmail.com

The books are $15 each.96 pages of fun for you and all the children you know.

Postage is $4.50 for every 1-3 copies you order.All signed by the author, if you wish.

That would be me.Thank You!

Rebecca Jane ReederSorry I don’t do credit cards at this time.

Send a check for the amount plus postage to

476 Lantz Street SE

Salem OR 97302

(Then get ready for the hugs and kisses.)

In the email, tell me how you want them signed.

This is Bandit Boy.

It’s a great name for him, not just because of the mask,

but because he steals hearts.

He doesn’t stage hold-ups.

He doesn’t have to.

When you see him, you give him your heart.

Well, that means he’s not stealing them.

If he’s not stealing hearts, we can’t call him Bandit Boy.

Can we?

Well, Maybe.

I mean, he’s still got the mask.

I think this is the teahouse

where the Mad Hatter

has his tea parties.

I’m not completely sure,

because I’ve read a lot of books

and I get them mixed up sometimes.

I never get mixed up about loving you.

Let’s go see if he’s in the tea house.

Maybe he will invite us for tea.

And let us wear one of his hats.

Do you know what he’s mad about?

Hummingbirds are fast little zippers.

They zing around, their wings beating so fast

it’s hard to see them.

They fly about 30 miles an hour

and dive at 60 miles an hour.

But they can’t fly faster than my love for you.

Even at a fast dive, my love is faster.

I really don’t know if love has a speed.

I made that up, but if it does, mine is faster.

And I’m not making that up.

It was snowing and I tried to count the

snow flakes, but I couldn’t count fast enough.

Some kids came around and we had a snowball

fight. Then we tried to catch snowflakes

on our tongue. Our tongues got cold so we

we went in and had hot cocoa.

With marshmallows.

We went back outside and I asked them to count

snowflakes with me.

One of the little girls counted to seventeen

gazillion, and then they all had to go home.

I think I need to take counting lessons from her.

I don’t need lessons loving you. That’s easy to do.

I asked this little girl if she would count

the grains of sand for me, and she said she would.

She used the scoop to fill her bucket.

She looked at it for a moment, then looked at me.

“Three,” she said.

I thanked her. She seemed pleased she had helped me.

She told me she could count to a gazillion.

I told her I couldn’t count that high.

She nodded as though that made sense to her.

She emptied the bucket and made sand patties.

She gave me one.

I told her it was delicious, and she smiled.

This little girl lives in another book.

She asked if she could visit. I told her I was delighted.

It was a very cold day and we went to the park to play.

She was blowing out her breath and told me she liked

cold weather so she could see her breath

when she blew out.

She told me I should try it and I did.

We spent some time doing that.

I told her she was very smart, that I hadn’t known

I could see my breath in cold weather.

She said it was time for her to go back to her book.

I told her I enjoyed her visit and hoped she would come back.

She thanked me and said she would.

I go to the fair to see the little piglets

because you can’t find them

except at fairs and on farms.

All baby animals are really cute,

but there’s just something about little baby pigs.

And kittens.

And puppies.

And deer.

And . . . well, all little baby animals.

I didn’t forget about little baby humans.

How could I forget you.

I couldn’t. I didn’t. I won’t.

Puddin’ came to visit and asked

if I would go to the park with her.

There were a lot of children, and we played tag.

Puddin’ was always “it” and the children let her catch them

so they could give her hugs.

To thank them, Puddin’ licked their faces.

She wagged her tail a lot, too. And ran in little circles.

Later we had milk and biscuits. She read a book,

but it didn’t have any pictures of dogs, so she took a nap.

Could you loan me a book about dogs for the next

time Puddin’ comes to visit?

Maybe you can come the next time she visits,

and we’ll all go to the park and play.

She would like that.

Me, too!

I don’t know what this ride is called,

but I think it should be named “The Slingshot”

because when I rode it the first time,

I thought it was going to throw me

into the next county.

It didn’t, so I rode it until I ran out of money.

Then I had to quit.

Not loving you, of course.

When my brain stops spinning

I’ll tell you how much.

I love you more than all the

ripples and waves this sternwheeler

has churned up in all the trips it has made

up and down the river.

Have you ever tried counting ripples and waves?

You have to count fast because

they’re always moving, and you can lose your place.

Ripples and waves are those wiggly things

in the water.

No, not those.

Those are fish.

Squirrels that live in this park love to play tag with children.

They could catch the children if they wanted,

but they don’t know what to do with them,

so they pretend the children are too fast.

The children are too heavy to carry up a tree,

and digging is prohibited in the park.

Let’s rake the leaves and count them

so you will know how much I love you.

Make sure you don’t rake up any squirrels.

They get pretty cranky about that.

Watch out for the children, too.

They would think it was fun if we raked them up.

We’d never get the leaves counted.