January 11, 2019 § 4 Comments
A few days after New Year’s, I asked each family member to come to the dinner table ready to share a New Year’s Resolution. My husband’s resolution was to find a new hobby; my daughter (never one to stop at just one) said she wanted to make new friends and get better at basketball; and my son said he wanted to read books faster, so he could “keep up” with all my recommendations (and the award for the person who stole my heart goes to…).
When it was my turn, I pulled out Cori Doerrfeld’s 2018 picture book, The Rabbit Listened (“I love that book!” my daughter exclaimed), and announced my intention to become a better listener. « Read the rest of this entry »
February 1, 2018 § 9 Comments
Compared to last week, this week’s book may a lighter pick, but it will do no less to make better parents out of us. In fact, it’s possible I needed this reality check more than my kids.
There are days when it feels like my children leave a trail of oopses in their wake. Days when my daughter—at seven, I tell you!—can’t seem to get a single forkful to her mouth without losing some of it down her shirt and onto the floor. When my son leaves his aircraft carrier outside his sister’s door and she steps on it with bare, now-bloodied feet. When just-poured glasses are knocked over by careless elbows; when Christmas ornaments become dislodged and shatter to pieces on the floor as running feet whiz by; when HOW ABOUT NO ONE MOVE BECAUSE THE HOUSE WAS JUST CLEANED AND I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! « Read the rest of this entry »
November 16, 2017 Comments Off on In Praise of One Exasperating Girl
Because my Emily loves nothing more than a spirited, emotive, somewhat out-of-sorts heroine who reminds her of a hyperbolic version of herself, I always knew she was going to fall head over heels in love with Clementine. It’s why I waited until now to read the seven books in Sara Pennypacker’s laugh-out-loud but astutely heart-tugging chapter series set in Boston—first published ten years ago (Ages 6-9)—about a third grade girl with “spectacularful ideas” and difficulty paying attention in class. I wanted my Emily to be close enough to Clementine’s age to relate to her. And yet, I wanted her to be just young enough that the reading level was a liiiiiitle beyond her, so she’d perhaps pick up the books again on her own in another year. Which she will—I’m now sure of it. « Read the rest of this entry »
May 18, 2017 § 6 Comments
It is often with trepidation that I watch my daughter prepare to work on a picture or a card. She sets out her paper, her drawing instrument of choice, and animatedly explains her Vision to anyone in the vicinity. “I’m going to draw a bird for my teacher,” she says, “because she loves birds.” I smile, but I try not to look too eager…or too stressed…or too anything. I try to look neutral. I attempt to recede into the kitchen—or, better yet, disappear into the basement to throw in a load of laundry—because I know from experience what likely lies ahead.
There are several minutes of happy humming, her preferred background music while she works. Followed by a sudden, guttural, downright masculine “UHHHHHGGGGGGHHHHHHH!” Followed by the sounds of said drawing instrument being thrown across the room. Followed by great, gasping sobs. “It doesn’t look like a bird at all! Its beak is terrible! It’s THE WORST BEAK IN THE WORLD! I hate this bird! I hate it!” Followed by the sound of paper crumpling, fists slamming, and stomping feet coming to find me. “Why did you tell me to make a bird? Don’t you know I am the WORST DRAWER OF BIRDS?!” (Ummm, I never said…)
My six and a half year old is rarely ruffled. She goes with the flow, handles curve balls with ease, and loves trying new things.
But she cannot handle mistakes. « Read the rest of this entry »
March 11, 2013 § 3 Comments
I was wrong. Occasionally, this happens (my husband would probably debate the word “occasionally,” but this isn’t his blog and, besides, I am usually right when it comes to books). Shortly after Kelly Bingham and Paul O. Zelinsky’s Z is for Moose (Ages 4-8) was published last year, I hastily thumbed through it at a bookstore and thought, “Another alphabet book…rudimentary drawings…simplistic-seeming text…a Bullwinkle-style moose…I’ll pass.” Then, in January, right after the Caldecott winners were announced, the Internet was suddenly abuzz about this book: top children’s book critics were outraged that Zelinsky’s book got passed up for an award, and some went so far as to argue that it was the most revolutionary book published in 2012. “Huh?” I thought. So when I happened to come across the book a second time (this time at our local library), I picked it up, brought it home, and read it to my kids. I’ll say it again: I was wrong. In my haste to judge a book by its cover, I completely blew past its cleverness, its hilarity, and its brilliant way of turning conventional alphabet books on their head. This is not your run-of-the-mill alphabet book; it is not going to teach your child the alphabet. It’s a book best read to a child that knows his alphabet and is ready to play with it (the joke begins with the title: kids have to be able to recognize that “Moose” does not begin with “Z”). The basic premise is this: a zebra is trying to stage a very basic book (hence the rudimentary drawings) about the alphabet—only he’s constantly interrupted by a moose who’s eager for the letter “M” to have its turn and then furious when that turn arrives and the zebra chooses a “Mouse” to take the spotlight. No narrative explanation is present (we as readers are left to fill that in). Instead, the action itself tells the story, via the argumentative speech bubbles between Moose and the Zebra or the rebellious graffiti that the former inflicts across certain pages in protest. Repeated readings reveal delightfully subversive details at every turn: perfectly square borders around the pages get bent as Moose brazenly rushes past them; an “O” on the book’s cover is askew from Moose’s protruding antlers. Zelinsky has exploited the very idea of a picture book, calling children’s attention not only to how such works might be constructed but also to how that process could go terribly wrong.
But for all its artistic prowess, Z is for Moose’s tell-tale sign of success is the reader’s reaction: MY KIDS THINK THIS IS THE FUNNIEST BOOK THEY HAVE EVER READ (to be fair, my two year old daughter has no idea what she’s laughing at, but the fact that her five-year-old big brother tips his head back and roars loudly on most pages makes for equally good entertainment for her). What child cannot relate to an impatient, foot-stomping Moose who is denied the justice he feels he deserves? At the same time, what child cannot relate to Zebra’s mission to do things in a certain way without anyone messing them up? And then there’s the ending—every parent’s sigh of relief—when Zebra yields a little control, Moose adjusts his vision of success, and the two friends end up sharing the spotlight under the caption “Z is for Zebra’s Friend Moose.” After all, everyone makes mistakes. Thank goodness for second chances.
Other Favorite Alphabet Books (though of the more conventional kind):
ABC: A Child’s First Alphabet Book, by Alison Jay (Ages 1-5)
The Sleepy Little Alphabet Book, by Judy Sierra & Melissa Sweet (Ages 2-6)
Alphabet City, by Stephen T. Johnson (Ages 3-6)
LMNO Peas, by Keith Baker (Ages 2-6)
Chicka Chicka Boom Boom, by Bill Marin Jr. (Ages 2-6)
Alphabet Adventure, by Audrey and Bruce Wood (Ages 3-7)