No child is an island

Lola M. Schaefer's An Island Grows is another superb non-fiction picture book. In spare, rhyming, but never cloying, poetry, she describes the growth of an island from undersea earthquake to volcanic eruption to a "Busy island in the sea, where only water used to be." Cathie Felstead's vibrant and simple collages are both engaging and explanatory. As in all good picture books, the words and the pictures form a happy union that is nearly unbreakable. One without the other is so much less than the sum of the parts. Recommended reading and a short explanation of how islands are formed complete the book. We've enjoyed this one very much, having discussions about volcanoes (always a hot topic) and islands. Little brother has taken to painting volcanoes, occasionally accompanied by his other favorite item de jour: eggies (that's dippy eggs here in the middle of Pennsylvania Dutch country or over-easy to the rest of the world). In fact, hanging on my office wall is a sure masterpiece: Volcano and eggies.

The 3 little pigs take to the road

David Gordon has worked for Pixar, developing such favorites as Toy Story and Monsters, Inc. (both big, big, HUGE hits at our house), the more recent Cars (Momma, I Light-nin 'Queen!) and the ubiquitous Spongebob. He is also the author and illustrator of Three Little Rigs and The Ugly Truckling. These are boy-ified, or at least truck-ified, versions of The Three Little Pigs and The Ugly Duckling. The Ugly Duckling has always been one of my favorite stories, but I am realizing that the concept is actually quite tricky for young children. Upon hearing the traditional story, told or sung, my nearly five-year-old always asks how the ugly duckling managed to turn into a swan. The Ugly Truckling sets up the same dilemma. The little truckling is actually an airplane, not a truck, but even with Gordon's fine illustrations, that fact slides right by my boy.

On the other hand, The Three Little Rigs is a new favorite. The big bad wrecking ball takes the place of the big bad wolf. He threatens to "crash ...and bash...and smash" the house in. Who could resist such sibilance? The big bad wrecking ball gets assistance from the alliterative mean magnet and cruel cutter. Oh dear! How will this end? Let's just say that there's a big pot and a steel mill involved.

Are you a creative mom?

Just because you are a reading mother doesn't mean you alway have time to read for yourself. I've been exploring the world of podcasts, particularly knitting ones. In a roundabout way, I found the Creative Mom podcast which has a little bit of knitting and a lot about being a creative mom fostering creativity in your children. If you visit her website, even if you don't listen to the podcast, you will find links to fun and interesting projects like this great accordion book made from envelopes. I find myself eagerly awaiting the weekly podcasts which I listen to in the car after dropping my boys at the sitter's or when doing housework after the boys are asleep. I urge you to try a podcast, if you have the technology available.

Can we read it again, Momma?

(Warning: Spoiler ahead) Big boy and I finished Stuart Little last night. I'm almost ashamed to admit that despite being a children's librarian and erstwhile instructor in children's literature, I've never read it before. I brought it home because we watched most of Stuart Little 2 on t.v. the other night. My budding knight errant was entranced by the adventures of this tiny hero with the can-do attitude. I checked out the video so he could watch the whole thing and brought the book home as well. Traveling in children's literature circles as I do (at least virtually), I'd heard much criticism of the movies; particularly that they strayed far from the book. Which, of course, they have, but I found much in Stuart Little 2 to appreciate. As a mother, I was glad to see consequences for lying and to see the attitude that even if you are small, you still have much to contribute. Besides, "Little hi, little low--little hey, little ho!" is so much fun to say and a worthy addition to our family lexicon. I've also heard about the controversy that the book created when it was first published. I must say that I found it to be a better book than Charlotte's Web (which is a fine, fine piece of literature). I know some feel that Stuart Little is book for older children, but my big boy, at 4 1/2, was captivated by the adventuresome plot. I will be interested to see what other ideas bubble to the surface of his thinking later.

Stuart Little is a pleasure to read aloud. White's writing has long been praised for being uniquely American, folksy, and graceful. I find all that to be true. I can only apologize for not doing it justice as I seem to be half-asleep when bedtime storytime comes. Of course, being a Bryn Mawr graduate, I do have a soft spot for E.B. White, who in turn had a soft spot for the Bryn Mawr woman in his life.

I was worried that my dreamy boy would be crushed when Stuart does not actually find Margalo at the end of the story. Instead of crying or asking "why?" my sweet boy just turned to me and said, "Can we read it again? All of it?" So we immediately turned back to the beginning and reread the first chapter before lights out.

a must read

We have been relishing An Egg is Quiet at home. Unfortunately, it really must go back to the library. Professional privilege can only be carried so far. Filled with delicate, detailed watercolors, this nonfiction picture book can be read on many levels. The main text is simple: An egg is quiet. An egg is clever. But the extra details--quite literally "subtext"-- is wonderful. Reading to Mr. 4 Years Old, I read nearly all the accompanying details; an ostrich egg can weigh 8 pounds while an hummingbird's egg is the size of a jellybean; how eggs to be laid on cliffs are pointed to prevent them from rolling over the edge. When Mr. Toddler and I read together, we cut to the chase and just read the "melody." When the three of us read together, we do a little of both, hitting the coolest, most boy-intriguing factoids and sticking to that melody. A great summer read and always something to put on your wishlist.

note to self....

When publicity shots are taken for my first book, don't wear a rainbow-patterned sweater.

my mother is the most beautiful woman in the world

Big brother and I have been reading my old copy of My Mother is the Most Beautiful Woman in World at bedtime this week. Like me, he is captivated by the descriptions of village life in a long-gone agricultural Ukraine. The pictures of fruits and veggies, the descriptions of pirgohki and blini, the big scythe are intriging to my little millenial.

Then, this morning, as we were madly dashing down the highway, late as usual, an enormous trailer carrying an excavator pulled out in front of us. Little brother, who had been shouting, "truck! truck" since we'd driven past a construction site fell silent in awe. "Momma," said big brother sotto voce, "you are the bestest momma in the whole world. I love you." Sometimes you get the credit for stuff totally beyond your realm of control.

a visit to the night kitchen

Maurice Sendak's In the Night Kitchen is legendary in the library world. How dare the great Sendak think he could get away with full frontal nudity in a children's book. Little Mickey's "parts" are just hanging there! Although I have never seen a defaced copy myself, stories of librarians, markers and sharpies (how Freudian is that?) in hand, covering up little Mickey's little.....penis are legion. We actually own an old paperback edition and I must say that it is a big hit at our house. Keep in mind that we are a house where a penis is a penis. We've shocked a few with our frankness. No peters, johnsons, wee-wees or pees-pees here. We calls a spade a spade.

Why is Mickey naked? Why does he crow, tummy and penis thrust foward? One only need live with a little boy to know the answer: because he can. Because a little boy has not yet learned that his body is yucky or shameful. It feels good to run free. It feels good to "go commando" once in a while. That's all. Sometimes, Dr. Freud, a cigar is just a cigar.

Our big boy has enjoyed the story several times. Last night little brother discovered it. We read it twice before bed. This morning he brings it to me in the middle of the morning rush--milk! Milk! "I'm in the milk and the milk's in me! God bless the milk and God bless me!" Time rushes on. Does this mean we've outgrown Mem Fox's lyrical Time for Bed? What's next? Where the Wild Things Are?

it's beginning to look a lot like christmas

I love the snow on days like today. The sun is shining and the reflection off the snow is so bright and refreshing. We played outside, big boy and little boy pulled around the yard by Momma. Later big boy got to stay outside while little boy and Momma cleaned up the kitchen. How wonderful to have mittens drying on a rack and to share "cocoa" (warm chocolate milk) in a Santa mug along with fresh cookies.

Who knew there'd be days like these? Stories to share? Try anything from Sweden. We like Christmas in Noisy Village by Astrid Lindgren.

things without words

How does one explain mental illness to a small child? Depression is so hard to describe, much less live with. To an angry three year old, it is unfathomable why Daddy doesn't want to talk right now. We talk a lot about how much we love Daddy and how much he loves us. Sometimes Daddy doesn't feel well and needs time to himself. It is ok to feel angry when he does that, especially when we want to spend time with him.

Bebe Moore Campbell does a good job of describing bipolar disorder in her picture book, Sometimes Mommy Gets Angry . A colleague of mine found the book disturbing and thought that it shouldn't be available in a browsing collection. I find that reassuring because mental illness is disturbing. No one wants to talk about it. I hope a child who needs that message does find it in the browsing collection.

Have you seen those commercials with Martin Sheen about mental illness? Argh. "Can she be hepled?" dramatic pause, "Can he be helped?" Reminds me of one of those horrible social studies or health films from high school.

we hunt for the bones of dinosaurs....

While the rest of the world is just gearing up for Halloween and the big candy-gathering event, we are all finished here. Our lovely county has, for years, deemed the last Thursday in October as "Trick-or-Treat Night." Supposedly, it cuts down on criminal mischief to disassociate trick-or-treat from All Hallow's Eve. Whatever.

We have, then, completed our October mission and paraded the kids in costume up and down the neighborhood, begging for candy. It was really fun. Our big boy, dressed as a "dinosaur bone hunter" a la Bones, Bones, Dinosaur Bones by Byron Barton, had conversations with just about everyone. "This is my trusty bag. This is my scary trick or treat bag. Well, have fun giving out candy!" The baby got the hang of things towards the end and decided he'd rather walk behind brother and climb porch steps. "Candy?" he'd say and then, "See ya!" He was the baby dinosaur. Daddy even got into the spirit and wore a dino hat to match. (Oh the wonders of green polar fleece and a sewing machine.)

Now the household is resplendent with candy and various Hershey products. Yum! May those of you in more traditional municipalities have fun and stay safe Monday night.

Surprise endings

We've been reading old favorites and new finds lately. My staff and I were invited to read stories at ZooAmerica during their "Creatures of the Night" celebrations throughout October. We took the perennial favorite Owl Babies by the illustrious Martin Waddell and our new favorite, which I mentioned last time, Porcupining , by the very punny Lisa Wheeler. Both were big hits. I don't always do lots of voices when I read aloud because I find it difficult to sustain throughout a story, however, that book just cried out for voices. Cushion the banjo-picking porcupine has a sweet, southern, blue-grassy voice that could have stepped out of O, Brother Where Art Thou? (Apparently that deep Randy Travis voice just isn't in me.) The quaint quilled creature he finally meets and falls in love with had no particular voice until I read the book to my son. Suddenly, her voice rang clear and very British in my head. What a delight to read aloud.

I've also been sharing old favorites at bedtime. Witch stories are not always politically correct at the public library, but in the privacy of my son's bedroom, Humbug Witch by Lorna Balian and Old Black Witch by the Devlins continue to delight and entertain. I have such a clear memory of the school librarian reading Humbug Witch to us in first grade and I have loved it ever since. "There was this witch and all of her was little. Except for her nose..." Surprisingly, there is a connection from Lisa Wheeler to that little witch. Perhaps there are no coincindences, only surprise endings.

I don't know how I do it....

There was quite the buzz over Allison Pearson's I Don't Know How She Does It when it came out a couple of years ago. It was a good read--chick lit with kids--but certainly not a Booker Prize contender. The usual hype about staying home versus earning money to waste on expensive clothes came up. The main character was run ragged by her family and her job as a hedge fund manager for a big London firm. I, of course, am not a financial whizz and am not making big bucks. I do work outside the home and try to manage both the children's area of a public library and a family of four. This week I've found myself wondering just how do I do it???? By some horrible coincidence, I scheduled appointments for myself and at least one of my children each day for three days straight. I've spent my week switching gears multiple times daily: work, pick up child, appointment, take child back to sitter, work, home, repeat. It is exhausting! The bright spot thus far was the discovery of a sweet picture book, Porcupining, starring a little porcupine yearning for love. He sings throughout in a voice that I imagine must sound like a cross between Randy Travis and George Strait. I can't wait to read it aloud to children.

Wishing everyone a chance at attaining their heart's desire this rainy fall day.

while visions of scarecrows danced in my head....

I was looking for books for a fall/scarecrow display this morning. Rather than sit in my office, I like to peruse the shelves, meeting old friends and finding new ones. I skimmed folktales and science before heading off to poetry. “A nice anthology,” I thought, “full of leaves and scarecrows, with an attractive cover.” Didn’t find what I was looking for. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Doesn’t mean we don’t own such a book. Just means that it wasn't there when I looked. Did find a book of Robert Frost’s poetry selected and illustrated for children. I was drawn to Birches. "So was I once a swinger of birches. And so I dream of going back to be." A wonderful thought for a rainy day when there is an alert for NYC's subways and children are abandoned in the street by murderers and nightclubs are being blown up. Who wouldn't rather be a child and frightened only in fun by James Whitcomb Riley's Little Orphant Annie ?

I love browsing through poetry and always wish I did it more often. When my boys are a little older and we don’t have the mad breakfast-in-the-car dash to the sitter’s, I look forward to the ritual of a poem a day to be read at breakfast. What better way to start the day than with nourishment for the soul as well as for the body? Give us bread but give us roses.