Thanks to my mother and her siblings, my brother and I grew up with a bunch of hand-me-down Ladybird books. They owned most of the titles in the 606d series. The classic pocket-sized mini-hardbacks introduced me not only to stories and illustrations outside the realm of 90s Disney; they were also the gateway through which I discovered the differences between British and American English.
I recall being so frustrated that the books insisted on spelling “mommy” as “mummy” that I corrected the supposed typos with a pencil. This tiny act of vandalism horrified my parents, of course. I explained that, to me, a mummy was this:
Now I know better!