Week Forty-Two

Ace totally agrees with me: Carle's Very Hungry Caterpillar is the pinnacle of children's literature in board book format.

Happy 35!

Here's to another year of finding our favorite monuments,

getting lost on less-traveled paths,

generally disrespecting authority,

finding the perfect sunset (or as is more often the case of late: the perfect sunrise),

searching for the tastiest pint,

getting enough sleep so we don't kill each other,

and always aiming higher.

[See 31, 32, 33, 34.]

There are only 2 a's, okay?

Eric Carle's Board Books

Let me just gush for a second and say that I think Carle's Very Hungry Caterpillar is the pinnacle of children's literature in board book form. It's gorgeous to look at, and it teaches several concepts subtly and swiftly: a life cycle, days of the week, a number of different foods. The writing is actually pretty advanced, too, with plenty of variety in sentence structure.

Carle's Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See? is practically another genre of children's literature. The sing-song-y rhyming couplets identify a number of animals of various colors through most of the book--a brown bear, a red bird, a blue horse, etc. At the conclusion, children list all the animals a second time. The art is still beautiful, though simpler than in Caterpillar.








Finally, we have Little Cloud, which is okay. It's not brilliant like Caterpillar or iconic like Brown Bear. The basis of the book is simpler than the first two: a little cloud changes into different shapes before joining other clouds and raining. Some of the shapes make sense--a sheep--others are kind of weird--a clown. The language is basic and somewhat clunky. It's...fine. A bit of a let down after the creativity in Carle's other work.








I obviously find the first two entries highly recommendable, the third, less so. Still, all three make a solid addition to Ace's bookshelf.

Problem Solving

Where did my cups go? Hm.

Son of a...

Reeeeeaaaaach.

Well, that didn't work.

Ah HA!

Success!

Now to enjoy the spoils of my victory.

Now if someone would kindly snap up my trousers,
I'd be all set.

Pat the Bunny by Dorothy Kunhardt

I can't think of a single kid I ever cared for who didn't have this book, so I assumed Ace's bookshelf required it, if only for my own personal nostalgia. After I looked at it again, I'm not quite sure why this book has been a staple in kids' book departments for more than seventy years.

This book is problematic from a logistical point of view. It's the flimsiest damn thing I've ever seen marketed to the baby/toddler set. They might as well print it on tissue paper. Ace could slobber this thing into a pile of sludge in under 3 minutes if given the opportunity.

Far more concerning is the fact that this book is kind of creepy. It is source material begging for a parody, and I can't help but suspect that most of the things Paul and Judy do are euphemisms for dirty, possibly illegal activities. It doesn't help that the whole thing reeks of sexism, despite the book's brevity; Judy and Mommy are obviously in dresses, and Daddy only shows up so "Judy can feel Daddy's scratchy face."

I also want to know what Paul and Judy smoked. Take a look at their eyeballs--those kids are totally high on something.

I suppose most of the weirdness of this books can be summed up by considering its publication date. It's from 1940--and not in a cute, vintage, retro kind of way. Nope, this is an Excessively White American artifact. I mean, come on, even the damn bunny is white.

Week Forty-One

So many electrical cords, so little time.

Leo Lionni's Board Book Collection

Ace owns three of Lionni's forty-some books, but that's only because so few of them are available in board book format. I look forward to collecting more of Lionni's work as Ace gets a little older and stops treating books like chew toys. (Frederick is at the top of my list.)

Lionni's books are gorgeous works of collage, but each is very much its own work of art. A Color of his Own is bright and bold; Inch by Inch is green and subtle; Little Blue and Little Yellow is clean and simple.

 

The characters in these books struggle, perhaps a little more than characters in most board books. A chameleon struggles with depression, and an inchworm must use his wits to survive a world filled with hungry birds. Perhaps most disturbing for a kid to read, Little Blue and Little Yellow's parents fail to recognize their own kids (when they turn green) and send them away. The books resolve the characters' immediate crises, though total closure is somewhat elusive.

Frankly, I appreciate a little drama. I mean, Olivia's biggest problem is having to take a nap every day. I love Olivia, but it's good to change it up now and then. And by "change it up," I mean "contemplating the psychological challenges posed by the ever-variable physical appearance of chameleons." Obviously.

Jennifer Adams and Alison Oliver's BabyLit Books

The die-hard English major in me harbors a fierce love for these books, so I'm excessively grateful that the kenandbelly crew gave them to Ace last year. The concept is so brilliant that I don't know why it wasn't done before (or at least why it isn't more popular).

Ace currently enjoys Alice in Wonderland, Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, and Romeo and Juliet. Obviously, none of the plots of the original works are suitable for a baby. But these books take characters, items, and ideas from the originals and display one on each page with an appropriate color or number label (the counting primers count to ten). In the distant future, Ace will read about Longbourn and wonder why he immediately associates it with the phrase "THREE houses." In purple font. With sheep on either side.

The book art is also gorgeous. The graphics around the numbers and labels are beautifully creative, despite (or because of) their deceptive simplicity. The images themselves are worthy of wall frames in a nursery.

Of course, finding convenient articles in a work of literature that count to ten is tough. So Jane Eyre boasts "6 chalkboards." I'm certain the novel referred to chalkboards now and then (she was, after all, a student and a governess); I'm not sure there was ever a specific group of six chalkboards, but that's fine. I have one minor quibble, however, about the extent to which some of the concepts are simplified or stretched for the sake of numbers. For example, in Romeo and Juliet, "5 friends" include Tybalt, Paris, Mercutio, Friar Laurence, and the Nurse. To call those five characters "friends" really pushes the term considering that some of them were on opposing sides of a bloody feud.

Regardless of that minor objection, I love looking at these with Ace. It helps that they are super-sturdy in the face of his violent enthusiasm for page-turning.

This is a normal parenting challenge, right?

Dear Ace,

I entered this whole parenthood thing without too many opinions. I cared for enough babies and kids when I was younger to know that there are a lot of right ways to raise a human being, and there is no one label that can determine the rightness or wrongness of one's parenting. So I'll applaud parents who stay home, parents who work at home, parents who work outside the home, and parents who accomplish some combination of those three things. I appreciate that there are strengths and weaknesses to day care, nanny care, and parent care. And so long as a parent is feeding his or her baby an appropriate form of food, I won't quibble over breastmilk vs. formula, homemade vs. jarred, Joe's O vs. Cheerios.

I'm pretty sure, however, that if someone told me a year ago that his or her nine-month-old liked to play with electrical cords, I would have judged. 

I would have judged hard.

And yet Ace, you want nothing more than to spend your time hunting down and chewing on electrical cords. At first, I thought the particular texture of my computer cord was helpful for sore, teething gums, but your affection for the computer cord continues unabated and unrelated to any incoming teeth. Furthermore, you do not have a particularly refined palate. My computer cord was the first you discovered, but you get excited about virtually any cord you can find--wiry lamp cords, rubbery phone chargers, and the cord that powers your noise machine. Don't even get me started on the lovely buffet of (unplugged) cords Cousin Javi generously offered you the other week.

What? No electrical cords in the park?

I start each day determined to convince you that you may not go after electrical cords. But by midday, I have already picked you up and said, "cords are not for eating" about 2 frillion times, so I give up and just remove any cords from sight. Then you approach the sadly empty outlets, dejected and confused that your quarry has evaded you. (That's when you decide to dismantle the cable box.)

Your pediatrician actually suggested rigging some sort of "electrical-cord-like toy." I'm not entirely clear how to do this, short of unplugging a cord and handing it to you. But I won't do that, because the one time I tried it, you decided it would be fun to crawl around and pull up with the prongs in your mouth. I also doubt that this strategy would keep you from looking for actual, functioning electrical cords. The thrill of the chase and the excitement of pursuing the forbidden is clearly part of the allure, which is somewhat frightening given that, again, you are only nine months old.

It's a good thing you're a particularly cute nine-month-old, which is one parenting opinion I don't find problematic.

Love,

Keeper of the Cords

Week Forty

He always finds time in his busy schedule to turn the pages of Betsy Snyder's Haiku Baby.

Hasa Diga Eebowai?

Two hours before each curtain for the Book of Mormon, the Lottery Dude conducts a lottery for 22 premium seats in front of the Eugene O'Neill Theater. I've submitted my name in about a dozen such lotteries, hoping that Tom and I might see what is perhaps New York's most popular (and expensive) show ever for a mere 32 bucks a ticket.

Ace is the only baby ever in
attendance at the lottery.

Anyhoo, yesterday, Tom and I strolled over on 49th with absolutely no expectation that our luck would improve. I dropped our names in the lottery spinny thingy (again), and we waited for the drawing (again). Lottery Dude started his thing, first calling out "from New York!" which was of no note to us, because the majority of entrants are "from New York." But then he said, "Tom!" And then he said our last name. Huh.

Tom and I looked at each other. Tom raised Ace over his head in victory. A guy next to me said, "Did the baby win?" I suggested to Tom that perhaps Ace should stick with me while he headed to the box office to collect his two tickets. Lottery Dude announced via megaphone, "I hope you have a babysitter on speed dial."

I was already calling every possible babysitter in my contact list. Auntie Meg pulled through. Let us take a moment to give a shout out to Auntie Meg and her lovely roommate--hi, Amanda!

Yay, Auntie Meg!

Tom returned, victorious.

The proud winner!

And thus, two hours later, we enjoyed the best theater seats we will enjoy in our entire lives. (If you are familiar with our theater-going habits, you know that we are typically mezzanine people).

Behold! The angel Moroni!

Even as we sat in front-row-center, we were shocked and a bit giddy that we won the seats.

Let's pause to celebrate the fact that I'm wearing a pattern.

The show is very much in the tradition of Parker and Stone's South Park--some of the humor gets pretty uncomfortable. But it is consistently funny, unexpected, and insanely creative. The music is brilliant (I caught a few brief riffs on other Broadway musicals in addition to all the original work), and the cast is probably the hardest working group of actors I've ever seen on stage. It was an awesome evening out, and we've been singing highly inappropriate lyrics to Ace all morning.

Great-Grandma's Farm

It was the perfect time of year for Ace to visit his great-grandma's farm. And he only had to listen to his dad go on about building all those barns with his own two hands for about an hour.

Ahem.

He was somewhat confused by the size of that dog...

...though the goats warranted a bit more attention.

Meanwhile, the alpaca wanted nothing to do with him.

Given his general enthusiasm for most things farm-related, he might turn into a farm kid after all.

Strawberries in Six Simple Steps

Half a lifetime ago, Tom and I worked on this farm. It was only fitting that Ace learn to pick strawberries here.

After an afternoon of careful research, Ace has a few tips for your strawberry picking experience.

First, put your grandparents to work. 

Second, don't hesitate to take a break from your arduous management duties.

Third, don't be shy about performing a generous taste test on the fruit (and the straw and the leaves), as necessary).

Fourth, go about your day with confidence, regardless of possible strawberry stains.

Five, walk casually past any signs indicating rules.

Six, when confronted with empirical evidence of your alleged crimes, fall back on your good looks.

Yup, follow those six simple steps, and your strawberry picking experience will be awesome!