The first time I read this book, I was 13 and it was a gift from my school's librarian (thanks, Mrs. W!). I read it A LOT and even re-drew some of the illustrations for my art class (but fuck you, Mr. K for never giving me above a B unless I added colour). 

A few years ago, my bestie (who is a librarian, go figure) came to visit and brought a fuckton of books for my kids.  This was one of them. My now 14y/o was 10 at the time and I was all "omg, can I read this to you?!" and they said yes. I read it aloud to them for a few nights and then the book disappeared. I tore the living room apart looking for the book and couldn't find it. After complaining about it having vanished, I asked the then 10y/o if they knew what had happened to it, and they admitted to taking it upstairs bc they didn't want to wait to find out what had happened. They sat at their bedroom door and read by the light in the hall WAY past their bedtime so they could finish it. I mentioned it to aforementioned bestie and she sent them a little flashlight so they could enjoy the illicit thrill of reading in bed after lights out (like we both had done at that age). 

Anyway, now that we're reading aloud every night again, they suggested we revisit this so that I could ACTUALLY finish reading it to them. 

There are parts of this book that still creep me the fuck out and I'm a grown-ass adult who doesn't need a nightlight anymore. 14y/o referred to it as "baby's first existential horror," which is a perfect descriptor and one I'm going to keep in my back pocket going forward. 

Why am I still obsessed with creeping dread? This book probably has a lot to do with it.