Into Thin Air

Henry has been obsessed with my old copy of Into Thin Air since I was at my company Grand Meetup in October.

He found it on my bookcase next to my bed, and showed it to me over Skype, super excited to point out the maps in the middle.

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He showed me on this very map where he was in North Carolina, where I was in Utah, and where we were all traveling together after the meetup, in California. Quite impressive.

Since then, he’s been an enthusiastic adopter of this book. He refers to it as “my book” (like, “mama! Where’s my book?”) and he frequently will reference it to have the final word on something. He’ll open to a random page, drag his finger under a sentence, and say whatever it is he wants to say (“my little car is blue”) and then shut the book decisively with a satisfied nod. Anytime he needs to check a map, he checks the map of Everest. This book is everything he needs it to be. All that for $7.99 in 2002.

Part of me will miss this stage when he outgrows it.

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