In complete darkness, I creep like a burglar up an unlighted stairway from the basement apartment in my son Rob’s house. I’m trying desperately to avoid the loudest creaking steps because five people, including two small children, are asleep nearby, but no such luck. I get a few sleepy kisses before starting my 90-minute drive to the Children’s Literature Festival in Keene, New Hampshire. With the requisite cup of coffee beside me, I head north on Route 2. A thin layer of fog