book scout

What We're Into: 25 Months

So. This is what happens when you try to stand on a piano bench and take a picture of books on the floor while your toddler is awake. I will spare you the ones with the dogs also sitting on the books, looking concerned for my safety. Much composition. So photography. I've got a backlog of summer posts to share (come baaaack, summer!), but I realized today that it has been nearly six months since the last "What We're Into" post, and that's probably unforgivable. Time to check in with that little person of mine and take a look at what he is reading. As opposed to what I want him to read, which is not always the same. No, no. 

Many of the books from previous posts are still in heavy rotation, but one of the things that has surprised me about having a two year old, is how sweetly predictable their tastes often are. Prior to becoming a parent, I was sure that if I offered my child nothing but beautifully illustrated, unusual, twee, picture books translated from the French or something, they wouldn't care about Curious George or Thomas the Tank Engine. I thought the popularity of those books was due to exposure rather than content, and HAHAHAHAHAHA. Excuse me while I laugh at my former self for a moment. HAHAHAHAHA. Okay, I'm done now. George and Thomas are universally beloved because they are universally childlike. Curious, fun-loving, and a little naughty. They have the agency toddlers so desperately crave, and yet their stories and endings provide just the right amount of reassurance and love. So yeah. Lesson learned.

I know I previously said I would try to narrow the list down to only a few, but brevity has never been my strong suit. I'm sorry! I blame Ewan, who's preferences have become so pronounced that he has been known to grab a book out of my hand and throw it on the floor if it happens to be the "wrong" book. Two year olds are not known for their manners or impulse control is what I'm saying. But they ARE known for their opinions. So eight books it is.

Onward!

1. Hand, Hand, Fingers, Thumb, by Al Perkins. Monkeys! Drums! Appendages! The MVP of board books, really. Ewan loves any and all books from the Bright and Early Dr. Seuss collection at the moment (The Foot Book, Hop on Pop, etc.), but something about this one makes him, and toddlers in general, go crazy. It was always a hit at my old story-times. And there is not much cuter than watching a small person with questionable rhythm try to keep a beat on their own belly "drum." (Edited: thanks, Sarah!)

2. Pete the Cat and His Four Groovy Buttons, by Eric Litwin. The Pete books were also some of my old story-time favorites, so I'm not sure why I never thought to pick one up for Ewan. A friend gave him this copy for his birthday and he promptly lost. his. mind. He memorized it immediately, sings it night and day, and the current pronunciation of  "mah four booby buttons!" makes me giggle like an adolescent. 

3. Wait, Wait, by Hatsue Nakawaki and Komako Sakai. This is one of the few instances where his tastes and my tastes have aligned, and it makes my heart sing. I have been a Komako Sakai fan for a long time. The text is sparse, but sweet, and the repetition and familiar images are perfect for very little people. I am never not taken aback by the beauty of her illustrations. I sometimes think about how often Ewan must hear the words, "Wait, wait!" each day, while he chases the next thing. It's no wonder he loves it. 

4. Freight Train, by Donald Crews. I mean, does this really even need an explanation? The single greatest book for a train-loving child in the history of ever.

5. My World, by Margaret Wise Brown. I think I have the only kid in the world who could care less about Goodnight Moon. My World on the other hand has been a favorite since he was only a few months old. Same goes for Big Red Barn. This really should be a post of its own, but Margaret Wise Brown is one of the few authors who's books he has continued to love with unwavering passion since he was born. And as long as you don't get too caught up in the slightly bizarro world where bunny families eat fish (?!) and own dogs, it's easy to see why.

6. Curious George at the Aquarium, by H A Rey. Again, no explanation needed. Ewan loves all George without question, but especially this one. Because: "Quen-quens." (Penguins.)

7. Off We Go, Kite Day, and Spring is Here, (the Bear and Mole stories) by Will Hillenbrand. These were another surprise. I've always really loved reading them to Pre-K groups, but wasn't sure if Ewan would take to them or not. After a week of reading Kite Day nonstop, I knew he had found a series to rival his love affair with Knuffle Bunny. As a grown-up who sometimes cannot contain her eye-rolls at the many oh-so-sweet picture books out there, I also have to mention how much I love them. Bear and Mole are just so darn CUTE, you guys.

8. Anno's Alphabet, by Mitsumasa Anno. Part alphabet book, part picture puzzle, part are you serious, child, you want to read this again? it's just the alphabet! This was another one of those wonderful flukes, thanks to the sweet daughter of a friend who gave it to Ewan while we were on vacation. I've always thought it was a neat book, but it really never occurred to me that he was ready for it. Oh, who am I kidding. Nothing stands between this child and his love of the alphabet.

The End.

And as always, I hope you'll share with me any books your children or the children in your life loved at this age in the comments. We are always looking for new material.

My toddler as an (unreliable, yet enthusiastic) housekeeper.

 

I've been thinking lately about housework. 

1. Yes, I am that boring.

2. Before you go running for the hills, I should probably clarify that I don't necessarily mean housework as much as I mean every day activities. Things like going to the store, or cleaning up toys, or watching the garbage truck rattle down the road. RIVETING STUFF, I assure you.

So I've been thinking lately about the mundane. The boring stuff that doesn't make it onto blogs or Instagram, but in reality, make up the majority of our days. This is especially true if you find yourself at home caring for a small person, but honestly it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what the work is or who is doing it (mom, dad, a professional). There's always more to do and it nothing ever stays done anyway. I've made my peace with occasionally running out of milk, and floors that are always covered in animal hair. Especially since I am one of those strange people who finds housework and errand running oddly soothing--the way others like to cook, or garden, or fix up cars. I am a chronic tidier. Naturally I am raising a child with equally weird proclivities. (He loves to vacuum.) But spend five minutes with any toddler and you'll know that they'rea all pretty fixated on exactly the things adults find most trivial. Sweeping, folding (and re-folding) laundry, going to the market, the library.

I am definitely not the first person to make this observation. There are entire schools of education based around the idea. But because I am me, I am also wondering about books. Once upon a time there was a whole genre of books written for babies and toddlers about trivial, everyday things. We own quite a few and they are oooooold. And also sloooooow. My husband affectionately refers to them as 'the most boring books in the universe,' and he's not wrong. Except I can remember pouring over the Eloise Wilkin books when I was a kid and being totally fascinated. Fascinated by chores. What-the-what. So where did those books go? How does an entire genre disappear? Do we really value our daily tasks so little that it's easier to pretend to our children that they don't exist? Also, as the current culture shifts back toward hand-craft, and physical work, and sustainable living, can we (the parents of vacuum-obsessed toddlers) hope to see books like that again?

I honestly don't know. I'm not advocating a return to some kind of 1950's hetero-normative culture or anything. I may be a SAHM but I am also a card-carrying feminist. It's just that books about every day life for babies and toddlers are actually important to babies and toddlers. At some point in the last few decades, it's as if publishers got together and decided that these books no longer spoke to the times. And I get it, I really do, but folks, I have a son who begs to differ. He would like to wash so many dishes that our water bill would exceed our mortgage payment, and slide my library card under the scanner approximately four million times, and practice 'stirring' ten hours a day, and spend thirty minutes just standing under every single 'treeeeeeee!' at the park. And we live in Oregon, you guys. THERE ARE A LOT OF TREES. He just wants to know how to be a person. How to live in the world. How to do things. It is his work. And it makes him very happy.

So we pour over books by Shirley Hughes, and Margaret Wise Brown, Eloise Wilkin, and Taro Gomi, and even the newer Lola series by Anna McQuinn. And if the success of Lola At the Library is any indicator, I can't help but wonder (Carrie Bradshaw style), why more publishers haven't jumped on the bandwagon. I've completely cleaned out Goodwill and resorted to scouring ebay for old/new titles. And pretty soon he is going start asking me why I don't wear an apron and a 1950's house-dress every day, and why daddy does the cooking, and I'm sorry, but nobody wants that. Is it too much to ask for some modern, realistic illustrations and settings in books for toddlers? With different types of families and children and modern stores and modern streets and maybe, just maybe, a vacuum manufactured after 1963?

An almost two year old and his parents can dream, right?

I am sure there are books out there we must be missing. Were your kids (or the kids in your life) obsessed with household work at this age? Can you think of any titles that might fit the bill? I am all ears. And I promise to never write about chores again unless I am talking about Ma Ingalls or something. Book-scout's honor.

 

What We're Into: 20 Months

 

I keep wondering if I'll ever write about chapter books again. Maybe? I don't know? I hope so? Let's go with yes.  I mean, I'd probably have to READ some new chapter books in order to actually write about them, but you know, details. (Although, for the record, I did re-read the entire Little House on the Prairie canon in March. But so did your grandma, and she didn't feel the need to blog about it. Probably. *) For now at least, our library bag is full of picture books (with the occasional YA novel thrown in for mom), and is subject to the whims of a capricious toddler. This month's favorite might just be next month's litter box surprise, is all I'm saying. But I really enjoy seeing how his tastes change (or stay the same) with age, and I keep wishing I had a record of the books he's loved throughout the months, as opposed to my favorites, which are not necessarily the same.

He reads independently throughout the day, and I read to him before nap-time and before bedtime as part of our routine. Usually anywhere between 5 and 10 books. It's a lot, I know, but it brings him more joy than anything else in the world (except for maybe mud-puddles; he would shove me into traffic for a mud-puddle), and it's something we both really look forward to each day. So because obviously I'm the only person who's ever read books to her child  in the history of the universe (hahahahaha), I thought a new regular (semi-regular?) series might be in order. Even if it's interesting to exactly negative eight people. And me. And my mom. Hi, Mom! So, taking a cue from the chalkboard at my friend Molly's restaurant (and also on the floor, because my table is covered in crayon)... may I present: What We're Into. 

 

1. The Cat in the Hat. I know I know. So edgy! So original! But it's gotten to the point where I have to hide it if I don't have 45 minutes to read the whole darn thing, because he is obsessed and skipped pages are punishable by tantrum or death. It should be noted that I am also totally guilty of buying all the licensed product Dr. Seuss crap I can find, because while childless me swore she would never ever succumb to such things...as it turns out, exactly 100% more sandwich will be eaten at lunch if served on a Cat in the Hat plate. It's true. Also, his favorite character of all time is Fish. Otherwise known as, 'Shish.'  And if that isn't the most telling thing in the universe I don't know what is. Hashtag: spirit animal.

2. Knuffle Bunny, ALL OF THEM. This was a real surprise to me. Mo Willams was my go-to guy for toddler story time back at the library and bookstore, but when we checked the Pigeon books out of the library a few months back, he was bored to tears. Huh. But Knuffle Bunny was a different story. And thanks to our sweet family and my wonderful bookseller friends, he was given all three books plus the stuffed animal for Easter this year. It blew his tiny mind. I have this theory that the Knuffle Bunny books are for toddlers what say, Game of Thrones, or Lonesome Dove or any other long-ish series are for adults. There is something very comforting about following the same character throughout multiple books, as he/she grows. They come to feel like...family, I guess. When Ewan is sick or teething or just needs a little reassurance about life, these are the books he pulls off the shelf. Every time. 

3. Polar Bear, Polar Bear, What Do You Hear? When you just can't make another farm animal sound, Polar Bear's got your back. Also, I am convinced he really just wants to hear my peacock impression, which is terrible. 

4. Dinosaurs, Dinosaurs. I didn't even know this existed until I plucked it out of the bins at Goodwill one day and it is so brilliant I can't even stand it. The fact that Ewan loves it and is deeply into dinosaurs right now, is icing on the cake. Byron Barton has always been a favorite of mine (remember this post?), but this might be my all-time favorite of his. In some ways it's just a book of opposites, but in other ways, it's this wonderfully comforting story full of shared, um...humanity? I find myself thinking, oh those amazing dinosaurs were not so different than you and me!, and then tearing up a little bit, and it's only noon and I HAVE NOT EVEN BEEN DRINKING. 

5. Alphablock. Or any alphabet books, really. I know he is little bit unique for his age in that department, so this one might be better for older toddlers. There is only one word to sum up the illustrations in Alphablock and that word is RAD. Also the fact that each letter is cut-out makes it really easy to identify and interact with them. He loves to trace their shapes with his fingers (he really wants to learn how to write them right now) and has pretty much destroyed the spine and we've extended our library hold about 6 times now and whoops, sorry Multnomah County! Maybe we should just buy our own? Yeah. Probably.

6. In the Night Kitchen, Which I am including mostly because it is my chef husband's least favorite book, the irony of which is not lost on anyone. We are huge (HUGE) Sendak fans, and although Where the Wild Things Are and Pierre and the rest, are very much in the rotation, Night Kitchen and it's slightly frantic, but super exciting beat, is the current favorite. Aaron thinks it's creepy and refuses to even crack it open, but Ewan and I both think it's funny and fun and only just a little bit dark, so to each his own. 


Obviously, this is just a small fraction of what we read every day, and it was really difficult to narrow it down to a few, but I think this is a fairy accurate representation of Books He Prefers To the Company of Humans. I'm calling it done. I also now realize that six might be too many for you poor people to slog through, so maybe I'll try four or five for next time. Also, if you or your kids or grand-kids or nieces or nephews or students (or any small people in your life) had favorites at this age, please FEEL FREE to share them. I am always looking for new material to shake things up. Obviously my life is very exciting.


*Okay, for the record, I will offer my own two measly cents: Little House in the Big Woods is the best book in the entire series. Boom. Total blasphemy. I love nothing if not a little nerd controversy.

Let's talk about a book.

I know! Right? You can pick your jaw up on the floor. I've been meaning to write about this perfect nugget of a board book for awhile now, but with the 52 Weeks project taking over the blog these past few months, and the fairly drastic life changes that come with opening another restaurant, I just keep forgetting to write about it. Not for want of attention in real life, however. Or for toddler approval. I personally know of a toddler who makes a habit of reading Everyone Eats, by Julie Kuo, at least once, if not fifteen times a day. And it is riveting, in it's own quiet way.
 

As you probably know by now, my little guy is the strong, silent type, and he hasn't shown much interest in learning to sign either... until this book. THIS BOOK. I frequently catch him flipping through the pages, signing 'eat' as he goes along. It makes my heart leap in my chest. I've given it to no fewer than three different children as birthday gifts, and think it works perfectly well for all types of families and their eating habits. And if the illustrations don't make you squee at least once, then...well, I'm not sure we can be friends? I don't know. They're amazingly cute and clever, is all I'm saying.

The publisher is fantastic, but small, so the chances of finding it at your local bookstore are unfortunately very slim. It never would have even crossed my radar if not for Emily. (She has her finger on the pulse, that lady.)  It is worth the hunt, however.  The cadence is perfect and the structure is so comforting. It's no wonder very small people seem to love it. Sometimes the pages will pop into my head odd moments. When I am watching the dog: "Bradley eats cat poop."  Or during a particularly frustrating dinner: "Ewan eats air."  The world does not need to see those illustrations, although I'm sure Kuo would somehow manage. And for the end-paper: Andrea eats chocolate. 
Book-Scout over and out.

Best New Holiday Books

Hello and Happy December, friends! I am in complete denial that this month is a third over already. Nope. I refuse to believe it. We are busy holiday-ing it up over here and pretending like January doesn't exist. The garland is hung, the cookies are baking, the terrible renditions of carols on the piano have started, and the tree is up! And sometimes down, thanks to the toddler. No seriously. I am going to have to tie that thing to the wall.

I have been meaning to put together a little post on some of my favorite new holiday books for aaaaaages, but then I missed Thanksgiving and Chanukah completely and wondered if I should even bother with Christmas, because here's the thing about Christmas books: they're just...not very good. As a whole. Now, don't get me wrong! They are often beautiful, and they tug at our heart strings (because: CHRISTMAS) and there are thousands to choose from, but there's not a whole lot of original content out there. And even those that retell traditional stories tend to use such cliched language, that it's no wonder some folks (my husband) prefer the Grinch.

I'm not saying there aren't some real gems out there. You've got your Christmas Magic, your Gift of the Magi, your Mr. Willowby's Christmas Tree, and so on, but you've also got a whooooooole lot of other formulaic stuff designed by the book-publishing industry to simply rake. in. dough. Those are not the books I want to give to my little fella this Christmas. Those are not the books I want to read to him in front of the tree that will likely be completely bare by the 25th thanks to his ornament thievery. We have decided to read one special book each Sunday of Advent this year, and I am trying to be intentional about choosing books that actually mean something.  

So I thought I'd put a little list together of some of my favorites this year (both silly and spiritual), if you're interested. or still looking for  gifts to give in the coming weeks. There are a few re-releases, but for the most part these are all newer titles well worth checking out of the library or buying at your local bookstore. I was actually shocked at the number of quality books that were released this year. I had originally intended to compile a list of four or five titles, but you guys I could hardly narrow it down to SIXTEEN. Maybe things are turning around in the world of holiday publishing? It's like a Christmas miracle! Check out the full list after the jump:

Crazy Train.

You know when Sir Topham Hatt shows up on Forbes Magazine's Fictional 15 List (which details the world's wealthiest fictional characters), that Thomas the Tank Engine has become a permanent institution. There was a time in my early book-selling/child-care days when just hearing the words 'Tank' or 'Train' sent me running in the opposite direction. And there was also an unfortunate period where the theme song from Thomas and Friends cropped up alarmingly often in my dreams. (Really. It was like a frightening Quentin Terantino movie.) I've since made my peace with Thomas. He is, in many ways, as inevitable as Princesses, or Pokemon, or Captain Underpants. You can move to the remotest regions of Antarctica and somehow your children will still manage to find the Isle of Sodor.

While I might not regularly read the books of my own free will (but am happy to oblige any special requests), I have come across one or two of the original stories by Rev. W. Awdry, and must admit, they have a certain charm. The fact is, they convey a safe, structured and incredibly moralistic world, and that is deeply reassuring to young children. The adult in me has always fought the urge to look for subtext, for political undertones, wonder what would happen to, say, the elderly, in a world where value is measured by usefulness, but oh my gosh you guys, these books are for three-year olds, and I HAVE GOT TO TURN MY BRAIN OFF. These days, Thomas and I do just fine. But I am always on the look-out for books to offer parents who are desperate for something, anything else, that might appeal to their wheel-loving child.

There are the well-known classics, like Mike Mulligan, the Richard Scary collections, or The Little Engine That Could, but I am always quick to add Byron Barton to the list, with his fantastic collection of books on trains, planes, and all manner of things-that-go. I have real soft-spots for Planes and Machines at Work. The books are small and short on words and my youngest train-lovers always seem to gravitate toward them. Why are they so awesome? Why do I never get sick of reading these things? The vibrant, saturated illustrations have been imitated by others time and again, and after one hundred rounds of reading the line, 'More work tomorrow!' I have this odd sense of comfort rather than the desire to throw the book across the room. I think their premise is equally as reassuring as the Thomas books, but without all the strange undertones. As long as the great world spins, there will always be more work tomorrow. Best do it cheerfully.

Although they don't feature trains, I am also head-over-heels for the Little Blue Truck books, by Amy Schertle. Yes, the rhyming couplets will eventually make your head hurt. Yes, your tongue will begin to loll out of your mouth after a few dozen readings. But they are succinct, full of excitement, and work fantastically well as read-alouds. Their message of friendship is sweet without being saccharine, and they offer the same sense of order and kindness in a chaotic world. The illustrations are a perfect combination of retro charm and modern observation, and this is especially true, I think, when the Little Blue Truck visits the big city. By including the farm animals as characters, they strike just the right balance between the man-made and natural worlds. Publisher's Weekly even called them the modern-day Little Golden Books. I am inclined to agree.

So what about you? Do you or your children have any favorite things-that-go books? We keep a small section ofThomas and other train books, but the larger picture books always seem to end up elsewhere. Does your local book-store/library shelve its wheel-based books together? And what is the deal with Thomas? Any explanations or suggestions would be most welcome.

 
 

Goodnight, unpaid hotel bills.

 
 Goodnight Keith Moon, by Bruce Worden and Clare Cross 
 
- So this is awesome. Or maybe horrifying. Possibly both. There have been many Goodnight Moon parodies throughout the years, but I think this one takes the cake. If you click through, I must warn you that there are all manner of vices and Keith Moon is most certainly not alive. (It is not for the faint of heart.) But I suspect that to all the sleep-deprived parents of infants out there, 'Goodnight Keith Moon' is the FUNNIEST THING IN THE UNIVERSE. (via Damn, Gina)

- Speaking of hilarious, how much do I love this Baby, Be of Use, board book series, by Lisa Brown? So much. I have helped many customers choose baby-shower gifts in my time as a bookseller, and I am never happier than when they share my opinion that books for the newly born are primarily for the parent. Honestly, you could read the latest issue of The Economist to a one-month-old and they'd be just as happy. So why not gift the new parents in your life a copy of 'Baby, Fix My Car,' or 'Baby, Do My Banking?' and give them a reason to laugh at 4 a.m. (via Fuse#8)

-Lastly, a big, huge thank-you to Betsy Bird at Fuse #8 for her kind mention of Book-Scout over the weekend! I have been blushing since Saturday.

Happy Monday, and Summer Solstice, everyone. I do believe its time for some mint juleps on the stoop. The cold, rainy, wet stoop. Oh, Portland.

Russian Literature for Babies.

                              
 

The funniest thing I have read in a very, very long time:

Baby's Touch n' Feel Guide to Russian Literature, by Summer Block. (via McSweeney's) 

'The Cherry Orchard:   Scratch the cherries to smell the sweet scent of the blooming orchard. Lopakhin's workers are chopping down all the beautiful trees. Whose fault is that, the aristocrats or the bourgeoisie?'  

'Anna Karenina:   Grisha and Tanya turn boxes into a toy train. This is called foreshadowing.'

'Crime and Punishment:    Run your hand over Raskolnikov's scratchy face. He is feverish and pale. Raskolnikov is a murderer. Can the ends ever justify the means?' 

 
 
Not sure if I'll ever be able to read Pat the Bunny again without cracking up. 
 

April Showers.

The Falling Raindrop, by Neil Johnson & Joel Chin, ISBN: 9781582463124

Sometimes you stumble on a book so breathtaking in its simplicity, it breaks your heart a little bit. It's my favorite sort of experience when it comes to picture books--to expect nothing and then find yourself grinning from ear to ear by the end. When you're not sure whether to cry or clap your hands, and you know that there is more at work on each page than the simple story of a tiny little raindrop and his descent to earth. It makes you think of Sendak and E.J. Keats and those rarest of rare children's book authors who have the hearts of poets. The Falling Raindrop, by Neil Johnson and Joel Chin is just such a book.

I often choose my story-time books over a month in advance, so it's sometimes a crap-shoot as to whether or not they'll be appropriate to the time, season, or place. But given that it's April and I live in the Pacific Northwest of the United States, I can pretty much bet my life savings that on any given Saturday, it will be raining. I'm not complaining. Everyone has their own meteorological crosses to bear. Sure, it doesn't snow or get too hot, but it rains nonstop from October until May, and kids here... well, they know rain. Ceaseless, relentless, ever-present rain. We don't use umbrellas; we live in our rain-boots; and we're all always a little wet. I'm surprised by how few picture books use rain as their central theme, particularly when books about snow abound. I adore The Rain Stomper, by Addie Boswell (the greatest group read-aloud ever), the Rain Came Down, by David Shannon, the delightful Rabbits and Raindrops, by Jim Aronsky, and on the very (rainy) morning I was supposed to read a few titles to a room full of antsy toddlers, could not find one of them ANYWHERE. Oh the irony.

The Littlest Raindrop came to my rescue. With only a sentence or two on each page, and the most basic of illustrations (just the raindrop and his changing facial expressions), I was worried as to how well it would hold the interest of so many rambunctious little ones. But it does. And then some. Storm clouds gather and a tiny raindrop is born. With big grin and arms open wide (arms made of water?), he flies toward earth with the exclamation, 'I'm alive!' Until it occurs to him that he might actually be falling instead of flying, and his joy vanishes. Terrified of the things that await him on the ground, he misses out on the fun of raindrop races and the beauty of skirting the clouds... and the thirty small faces sitting at my feet stared up at the little raindrop with looks of concern and head-nods of understanding. It was then that I realized this was a new one to add to the 'totally magic' book pile. Kids GET this story. Adults GET this story. They feel it deeply even if they're not sure why. There is something fundamental to the human experience at work here and it's told through the eyes of a raindrop, for cryin' in the night. I wanted to jump up and down.

He descends toward a small campfire, worried, sad and alone. He disappears into the flame with a 'pouf.' Until. Of course. He becomes a wisp of steam. Through what one reviewer called the 'quotidian miracle of the water cycle,' he begins to rise, and thinks of all the wonderful things he will do the next time around. The small audience gathered at my feet began to clap and there were smiles and sighs of relief. They then proceeded to play 'racing raindrops,' at which point, their parents were probably less amused.  I'm still on the look-out for more rain-themed picture books, but am happy to say I've got a new favorite. What about you? Do you or your little ones have a rainy-day title that is particularly beloved? As always, suggestions are most welcome. I'll be in my wellie boots until June.

Wordless books, as read by a blabber-mouth.

 
 
The Boys, by Jeff Newman ISBN #9781416950127; Chalk, by Bill Thomson ISBN #9780761455264 

One of my favorite people in the world is a two year old named Eliot. She is a great lover of books, is named after one of my favorite poets, and her parents are lovely people. My adoration is not surprising. When Eliot was very small, before she could really speak, she was fond of wordless picture books, specifically, Good Dog Carl, by Alexandra Day. (She was also a big fan of dogs, so it featured pretty heavily in the early book rotation.) She was more than happy to sit by herself and flip through the pages, sometimes in the wrong direction or upside down, and coo to herself at the various antics of a baby who's mother leaves him/her in the care of the kind and responsible family dog. (I advise you not to think about that too much. You will be wondering why someone has not called Child Protective Services on this woman.) But I discovered something about myself while reading Carl with her one afternoon: I am completely incapable of reading wordless picture books with a child. I just. cannot. do it.

I swoon over amazing illustrations as much as the next person, but it's no secret that I am a big fan of words-- wonderful, surprising, perfectly chosen words. Some of us are visual, some are auditory... and I am a word-nerd. It follows that I cannot read a wordless book without randomly interjecting my own narrative. Oh no, the baby's in the fish tank! Look at Carl save the baby! I actually laughed out loud when I read this post over at The Diamond in the Window a few months back and realized how many folks do the same thing. A wordless book is an intensely private and reflective thing that young children seem to gravitate toward, but I can't stop yammering. 

There have been a number of wordless picture books released in the past few months. I'm sure Jerry Pinkey's success with The Lion and Mouse (it won the Caldecott award in January) had something to do with the timing.  Chalk, by Bill Thomson, is an imaginative work about three children in a park on a very rainy day. They stumble upon a bag of chalk. One girl begins to sketch butterflies, and monarchs reach out of the pavement and up into the air. Another child draws a yellow sun that parts the (very real) clouds and fills the sky with golden light. Their final artistic endeavor is a Tyrannosaurus Rex, which steps out of the sidewalk in life-size form. They quickly realize that a dinosaur was not the wisest choice in drawings. The illustrations practically shimmer with light and the unusual angles add a playful touch, but I can't help but wonder if the the last few pages will scare the pants off its intended demographic. It is a visually amazing little book, but might be best for children with a high tolerance for peril.

Second up is The Boys, by Jeff Newman. I don't even know what to say about this one. It is surprising and wry and touching and I really don't want to ruin it for you with a lame synopsis. It opens with the image of a moving van and the word, 'Tuesday.' The days of the week are the only text provided. The protagonist is a shy young baseball lover who longs to join in a game with other children in the field. Instead, he saunters up to some older gentleman on a nearby park bench. The rest is magic. Pure, unadulterated magic. The retro, sketchy illustrations will be popular with parents, but the book's strength lies in a near-perfect (albeit, silent) narrative. I didn't even feel the need to interject while reading it. Honestly. Both The Boys, and Chalk would be best for young children, but they could also be used as literacy tools for language learners, or really cool writing prompts for older children.

So, what about you? Do you have a favorite wordless title? Do you find yourself adding text to a wordless page? Better yet, do you have any tips to help me learn to hold my tongue? I am determined to keep quiet. Wish me luck.