I started telling stories to my kids long before they could listen or understand. Once their eyes could focus on books, I started reading to them too. I'd help my son point to pictures. I'd teach him to recognize colors and letters and words. The trouble was, our oldest son soon became such a creature of habit that stories weren't "real" unless he could turn the pages. My own little tales simply wouldn't do until I bought a blue notebook and wrote them down. Thus Oscar and Timmy were born, a boy and his cat, with hand-written words and hand-drawn pictures, and ideas that came from the life of a hand-raised son.
I was pretty proud of Oscar and Timmy. I suppose it was my first attempt at publishing, except there was only one copy and it lived in a toy-box. One day they set up a "Look what you can do with writing" display at our sons' elementary school. The little blue book took pride of place on a shelf then disappeared. Somewhere out there, maybe someone's still reading Oscar and Timmy to their kids, but I make do with a photocopy, made for my first ever book-submission, still proudly stored in its envelope with my first ever rejection.