I was raised by a band of wild gypsies who played music day and night but didn't know how to read or write.
I taught myself how to read so I could read menus. I love restaurants.
And I taught myself how to write so I could make books.
I learned how to draw when my gypsy family visited a museum and left me there.
I ate leftover french fries and slept in the broom closet at night and copied my favorite paintings during the day.
I lived in the museum until I was old enough to make children's books and buy a real house.
My only hobby is seeing how long I can go without blinking.
I have worked on books about happiness, legs, bunnies, chickens, dogs, lots of dogs but I still haven't done any books about witches, vegetables or badly behaved children. I still have time.
I cannot sleep with my socks on.
I hate cottage cheese.
I love music but I'm a terrible musician. (I think thats why my gypsy family left me at the museum.)