We wanted a book that felt like home.

The idea arrived during the kind of family day that would never look important from the outside: toys everywhere, a story being read again, and a small child completely absorbed in a world that did not quite look like his own.

We wondered what would happen if the book could know more. Not only his name, but the people beside him. The things he was obsessed with that month. The places he recognized. The odd little phrases our family would still remember years later.

So we made a story around a real little life. That first reaction — the pointing, recognizing and wanting to look again — became the reason to keep going.

Sundayfawn grew from the belief that the details families almost forget are often the ones worth keeping.