The Read Balloon: A Glorious Day

I’m officially behind on everything: this blog, every blog, to-do lists, returning phone calls, social interactions, personal hygiene. And this is in part because of a very wonderful, thrilling new stress: we are moving! Yes, after looking on and off for two years or something like that we have found an apartment and then we bought it and now we have to do something about getting ourselves in there. Hold on, you say. That’s nice, but isn’t this a Read Balloon post about books somehow? Stay with me here, yes, I’m getting to it.

So the place we are moving into is a big ole 1950′s co-op building with 55 units and some exciting features: elevator, laundry, and tons of kids. We’ve already been to a birthday party there — there are 10 kids under the age of 3 — and were regaled with tales of intra-building playdates on cold winter days, chase games in the corridors, laundry room toddler jamborees, and holiday parades in the lobby. We’re so excited!! It is going to be our favorite and our best!

All of this is relevant because the book Harper and I have been obsessed with lately is Amy Schwartz‘s excellent A Glorious Day. It’s one of those sweetly uneventful books (a friend who was roped into reading it 9 times in a row to Harper was like, “What is up with that book anyway?”) that really appeals to small children. Harper loves to read and reread details like what kids have for breakfast, or how they prepare for bed — after all, these are the main events of her life too.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. The book is basically an ode to Brooklyn family life, and this (along with the wonderful illustrations) is why I’m okay with reading it 7,000 times a day. 10 kids (am I counting right?) live in a little 4-unit apartment building, and the book is concerned with all these kids — the baby, the little kids, the big kids — spend their day. They play in their small apartments, they meet up in the stairwells and on the stoop, they stroll down the block to the playground. They flow in and out of each others’ lives organically — hearing each other in the bath at bathtime, helping each other locate lost pets, seeing one another at the store on on the street. With all the aspects of city life that seems so unwholesome for growing children, I love a good reminder of what’s so wonderful about it — the built-in community, the sights and sounds, the constant stream of interesting stimuli.

Plus, Schwartz’s illustrations are so lovable. We’ve already packed the scanner or I would share my favorite page, which features the bedtime arrangements of all the kids in the buildings and all the various shared bedrooms (another newfound interest of mine) — the bunkbeds next to the crib, the twin beds lined up Madeline-style. I’m so glad we stumbled upon this book, which came to us at just the right time, as all good books do.

Now let’s hope I can somehow return it to the library on time. This move has me psychotically scattered, but that’s another post. A post I will never have time to write.

A Glorious Day by Amy Schwartz. Warning: This subversive text features children jumping on sofas and eating potato chips for breakfast. Just so you're prepared.

The Read Balloon: Charlie and Lola is our Favorite and Our Best

I know, I know — I’ve already written about the Charlie and Lola books and how much Harper adores them. Well guess what? She’s still obsessed. That last Charlie and Lola post was almost a year ago, people. That’s nearly a third of Harper’s life. Still, we search for a new book every time we visit the library so that we can rush home and curl up with cups of pink milk and tear through them. She and Ollie were Charlie and Lola for Halloween (her idea).  And for Christmas, we actually acquired some Charlie and Lola books of our own. (Thanks, Grandma!)

Here’s what I think is funny. So, on the one hand, we have I am Not Sleepy and I Will Not Go to Bed. This is one of Lauren Child’s original books, and I couldn’t love it more. Lola is such a zany nut, and her excuses why she can’t go to bed are absolutely amazing, and as always Charlie is so sweet and patient with her. To me, this book’s superiority is evident. The original Charlie and Lolas are just terrific — I love Slightly Invisible despite how long it becomes on the 82nd read, and I Will Never Not Ever Eat a Tomato is brilliant — green drops from Jupiter! — I Am Too Absolutely Small For School is great, too. I love me some Soren Lorenson.

Charlie and Lola in I Am Not Sleepy and I Will Not Go To Bed, aka The Harper T. Story.

The illustrations in the original Lauren Child books are a bit scratchier, sketchier, and less cutesie-cute somehow (their eyes? something’s different) than the cartoon-based spinoffs which proliferate in our library book stacks like so many bunny crackers in the bottom of the diaper bag. So, yes, this book is awesome, and especially for my child who says, every night, without fail, often while yawning, “I’m not sleepy. I’m going to stay up alllll night.”

Then, on the other hand, we also now have a copy of My Best Best Friend. This is one of the cartoon spinoffs, and in my mind the difference could not be clearer. The illustrations are a bit neater, the colors smoother and more computery, and the dialogue not as funny. The story of a best friend worried about a new friend and feeling left out, I mean, come on, I just read that Fancy Nancy with the exact same theme. It’s so ordinary. And of course, Harper LOVES it. She has it memorized already, really. She’s obsessed with the idea of best friends. She loves the part where Lola feels left out. She extra-loves Charlie’s friend Marv, who I think she has a little crush on. Anyway, of course I’m glad she loves it. I’m glad she continues to love this series. There are just so many of them! And even the worst of them isn’t – shudder -Dora.

Somehow we have made it this long without Harper learning about the cartoon version of Charlie and Lola. I’m sure it’s adorable, but I love how she’s made these characters her own. Just tonight she grabbed my hand and said, “You’re my best, best friend!” My heart was about to melt when she added, “Lola! And I’m Lotta!” At least I got to be Lola.

(PS: While we’re on the subject of Charlie and Lola…how awesome is this Charlie and Lola dollhouse?!)

The Read Balloon: Playtime Peekaboo board book

And now for the first ever Read Balloon post inspired by a favorite book of The New Guy, Mr. Ollie Baby Himself. At 8 months or so (who can know for sure?), the boy formerly known as Boombox is starting to express some quite sophisticated tastes in literature. To wit, this week’s pick, DK Publishing’s Playtime Peekaboo, author unknown.

I’m trying to get through this post without writing anything disparaging about this board book. Let’s just say I’m not the one whose soul is stirred by Playtime Peekaboo’s sturdy pages, stock photographs of happy babies, and various textures.  But Ollie really really really loves this book. He literally squeals with delight as he lifts the flaps and discovers, all over again, the fuzzy little bear. And we all know that audible squeals are the best reviews any book can hope for. If his reaction is any indication, for babies, Playtime Peekaboo is a delight for the senses. Apparently, it even tastes really good.

Harper also loved this book when she was this age, the age of peekaboo, and I remember appreciating that this book has flaps that are actually sturdy enough to survive the enthusiastic grip of a semi-coordinated baby fist. It’s not the prettiest board book  in the world, but it is exactly what it needs to be. If you have a baby, I will guarantee you that baby will really love this book. I bet you…my copy of this book.

And don't miss the exciting sequel, Bedtime Peekaboo. Harper used to kiss every page goodnight before bed. Oh, babies!

The Read Balloon: The Best-Loved Doll

As I’ve written elsewhere, this month is Picture Book Month, and today’s theme  is Friendship  (these people are organized), all of which gives me an excuse to write about one of my favorite books of all times, The Best-Loved Doll, by Rebecca Caudill. I’ve tried to show this book to Harper a few times, which has pretty much met with the response I had whenever my mother tried to show me movies she liked as a kid, as in, “Whuh? Where’s the color? Why’s everything so slow?” Kids today.

The Best-Loved Doll, by Rebecca Caudill: my best-loved picture book.

I don’t remember how I came to this book or exactly when, but I loved it. I loved it so much that all my dolls were named Jennifer, after the doll in the book, like I was some sort of elementary school George Foreman. I loved it so much that apparently I inscribed my copy to my best friend, Julie. I didn’t give it to her, since I still have it, but sort of just dedicated my copy to her, or something.

How I plan to sign all my books from here on out.

The Best-Loved Doll tells the story (true, apparently) of a little girl who is invited to a birthday party in a kickin’ brownstone. Each guest is asked to bring her best doll – there are several categories, including oldest and best-dressed – for tea and cake and prizes. Betsy considers her three fancy dolls, each of which would be sure to win a prize, before choosing to take Jennifer. Jennifer looks like hell, and her dress is “a fright.” She sort of resembles the sweet old lady you always see around and wonder if she’s homeless or not and decide she’s not because she seems too friendly and generally clean but you know her

The other dolls tell Jennifer her dress is a fright, which is a total bitch move, but of course she's really nice about it.

apartment will kind of smell weird and have too many cats. Know what I mean? But Jennifer is Betsy’s favorite, and the one Betsy wants to party with. As Betsy watches all the other girls prizes, she hugs Jennifer and whispers reassurances. I just could not love this more. Betsy! What self-assuredness! I don’t want to give anything away, so I’ll just say the ending is one of the more satisfying in all of fiction. I love the sketchy drawings too, although for me this book is really about the story of friendship and love and not caring what anyone thinks.

Susan's mom is completely the best. LOOK AT THIS PARTY!

My hope is that one day Harper will let me get through this whole book with her, and more than that, of course, that she will be as self-assured and confident as Betsy, who doesn’t need to show off – in the world of little girls, this is a big deal – but is who she is, and wants her dolly to be who her dolly is. Like, World, Special Baby Doll is all filthy dirty and has a bunch of bandaids on her arms, but she’s my buddy so lay off!

The dolly tea table kills me.

This book is, to me, the essence of what’s great about girlhood. Then again, I really really really loved my dolls, and have a soft spot for odd, damaged, off-kilter things, so maybe it just appeals to my sensibilities. Or, perhaps, formed them.

Check out the official Picture Book Month site for great posts on why picture books are important (as if we needed convincing), as well as some great reading suggestions!

The Read Balloon: Don’t Want To Go

Lately, with playschool and my working a little bit and revising my novel, Harper has had occasion for a lot more “Don’t want to go” moments than the previous two years of her life, when we were at each others’ sides every single instant, yes, even in the bathroom. Maybe this is why she’s so very into Shirley Hughes’ sweet I Don’t Want To Go this week. Over and over she asks me to read it and then she “reads” it to me. We both really like this book, a reassuring tale of the day Lily’s mom is sick and Lily spends the day at the neighbor-lady’s. The neighbor-lady looks eerily like Patti LuPone, makes some killer collages with Lily, and even refrains from screaming “ARE YOU SHY? DON’T BE SHY!” when Lily first arrives and feels the need to hang out under the table for a while. Our neighbor-lady-babysitter, while also very nice, lets Harper eat cookies and watch untold hours of television, which causes Harper to sometimes sigh longingly and say, “I want to go to Gladys’ right now.”

I like the story of Don’t Want To Go very much, and I think the writing is better than in most picture books– or anyway, it stands alone more. I feel like you could read the text on its own and appreciate the story fully. I don’t think I ever noticed that most picture books aren’t quite like this until now. Not that you would want to remove the lovely illustrations though — wonderfully expressive faces, gorgeous colors playing in white space.

What I also love about this book is that the protagonist seems to be just exactly Harper’s age, which is sort of just a weird fortuitous thing. She’s that teetering two, perfectly articulate with her parents, sometimes reduced to complete silence with strangers, sometimes all grown up and sometimes a “big girl baby,” as Harper likes to call herself.

Also, the idea that if I were sick one day someone else would take care of my kids all day instead of me just shuffling around like a zombie is a wonderful, wonderful fantasy. Ah.

Don't Want to Go, by Shirley Hughes. Harper loves the part where Lily forgets to say thanks.

 

The Read Balloon: Mercer Mayer and the Little Critter Books

I have hazy memories that may or may not be fabricated  (no, it’s nothing salacious or exciting, sorry) of — what else? — teaching myself to read while lying on the pleasantly cool floor of our basement, obsessively going over and over the Mercer Mayer book Just For You. It recently occurred to me that Harper, who is obsessed with letters and rhyming (she drew an H on the table the other day with a hunk of cheese, an action I had to work very hard to pretend to disapprove of), is doing the same thing when she asks me to read the same books again and again and again and again. What’s crazy is that it’s actually these very same Little Critter books that have captured her attention. I swear, she came to these on her own — her grandmother gave them to her, and Harper’s the one who brings me stacks of them to read.

Right now her “favorite and her best” is Just Me and My Mom. It’s a little heartbreaking, actually — okay, I get the message, you want some undivided attention that you never ever wait sorry I have to go change the baby’s diaper what was I saying?

Anyway, I have to admit this is not my most favoritest of the Little Critter oeuvre. The volumes created in the 90s have a certain extra-sassy “What would Macaulay Caulkin do?” vibe to them that seems to me a little meaner than the earlier stories, you know, from the good old days, when I was a kid and the Little Critter was trying to do everything right but failing because he was hapless and small, not because he had ADD. (Yes, I am actually trying to channel my inner Andy Rooney in order to honor his memory, so it’s okay that I sound like an old fart.)

But for the most part, these books are just all pretty great. Of course I’m partial to Just for You, but I also really like The New Baby, which is one of those rare new baby books that doesn’t make it all sound like a horrible drag. Whichever Little Critter book you choose, though, there is fun to be had — finding the frog or spider or cricket on each page has been a favorite past time of Harper’s for ages. You know, since she was a little kid.

I tried to make this blog post good just for you...but I didn't have enough time, so I'm lucky if it even makes sense..

The Read Balloon: Peter’s Chair

“Harper, what’s your favorite book right now?”

“Peter!”

“Really? Peter’s Chair, the children’s classic by Ezra Jack Keats, who innovatively used collage and introduced multiculturalism into children’s literature?” *paraphrased

“Yeah.”

“What’s your favorite part?”

“I like when he reaches up.” (On the first page, Peter is building a very awesome block tower.)

“What else?”

“I like when his mama looks out the window. What’s he doing? There’s the picture of him as a bigger baby.”

“Yes. Pretty cool book. It’s about having a new baby in the house. We have a new baby, don’t we?”

No response.

“His new baby Susie is kind of like our Ollie!”

“Read it again. “

And there you have it.

Did everyone else know that Ezra Jack Keats was a Jewish white guy from Brooklyn? I didn't.

The Read Balloon: Oh What a Busy Day, by Gyo Fujikawa

I’ve written about Gyo Fujikawa here before, but by gum, I’m doing it again. We have “Oh What a Busy Day” out from the library right now, and Harper and I have been poring over the amazing illustrations. This book just makes me happy. I remember almost every single image from reading it as a child. I remember which images delighted me, confused me, fascinated me. I loved the page of kids pretending to be a peacock, a dinosaur, a sandwich. I loved the feeling I got from the illustration of a girl in cozy little wooded hiding place. The world of this book is a wonderful one — no grownups  anywhere, just kids playing, playing, playing. The words in this book, I’ll be honest, are completely besides the point, and not all that exciting. The text is just an excuse for the pictures, the literary equivalent of a toddler’s chicken finger aka ketchup-delivery-device. But the ketchup! I mean, the pictures!

To tell you the truth, this book is not really Harper’s favorite right now. Her real favorite is a chirpy Yo Gabba Gabba product that I find interminable and keep trying to hide. Ugh! I know they can’t help it, but sometimes I hate that the library has so very many corny tv show spinoff books. I mean, we go there to be booky, and we’re bombarded by screaming computer games and printed advertisements for television. I guess the upside is that Harper doesn’t yet know to beg for the animated equivalents of these usually terrible books. After all, the Charlie and Lola series — still a beloved favorite around here — is just such a product, not that she knows this; for now, it’s a world that’s still hers to imagine. And the Yo Gabba Gabba book she’s so into is, in the end, about using your imagination, and she LOVES it, so what’s the big deal?

All I know is, I’d rather spend time playing pretend with Gyo Fujikawa’s sweet-faced kids than the Gabba monsters. Wait, does that make me a racist? A monsterist? Or just a sort of picture book Andy Rooney?

Ehhhh books today! If anyone needs me, I’ll be daydreaming in my burrow.

The Read Balloon: Charlie Parker Played Be Bop

It’s obvious that my kids are much cooler than me, and they’re not even out of diapers yet.  And yet: They’re from Brooklyn. They have lots of really cool friends. They have crazy good fashion sense. (Harper has been known to rock 3 to 4 pairs of leggings with moccasins and then some underwear on the OUTside, thank you very much. Alton today sported a very cool Little Warrior shark t-shirt and diaper. I mean, come on!) They are excellent dancers. (Upon hearing music, Harper likes to shout, “I can shake my hair all around!” and then proceed to do so.) The list goes on and on.  So why should I be surprised when our favorite board book this week is Charlie Parker Played Be Bop, by Chris Raschka?

Harper found this book at the library and decided we should get it for Alton, who then replied in a high-pitched version of Harper’s voice, “Yes I like it!” Harper’s been really into all the baby books lately. I think what she likes best is that she can memorize them and then “read” them herself. So this little book led to adorable moments like requests for some “Charlie Parker plays be bop” music to be played, and Harper getting all up in the baby’s face going, “THE MUSIC SOUNDED LIKE HIP-HOP! NEVER LEAVE YOUR CAT ALONE!”

In the sea of crappy board books plagued by uneven rhythms and rhymes and corny subject matter, this book is a welcome change. It would make a great present for cool expecting parents, along with a teeny black-turtleneck onesie and an adorable baby-sized joint. What! No! But you know what I mean. I loved reading the nonsense, scat-like lines aloud. Although I will say it made me feel very extra white.

Anyway, great fun, this book.

And so cool.

Charlie Parker Played Be Bop, by Chris Raschka. By far the best board book for babies about Charlie Parker.

The Read Balloon: Hands Are Not For Hitting

It’s a little depressing to walk into one’s local bookstore and utter the words, “So ah, do you have a book called Hands Are Not For Hitting?” Which is just what I did the other day. Doctor’s orders, literally. I know, yikes. For the past couple of weeks, little angel-face Harper has been hitting her friends and sometimes random other youths. Never us or her brother, but I think we get the message, right? It’s the weirdest thing – it’s not when she’s mad, and most of the time it’s just an airy, obviously symbolic swat. She often seems a little surprised afterwards.

“What I did?” she asked as I dragged her out of the sandbox the other day (baby strapped to my chest, of course – ever the graceful image of motherhood, that’s me!). “Why I hit that Elmo-child?” The kid in the Elmo shirt was sitting there stunned, having just been gently bonked in the forehead with his own shovel. “I don’t know, Harper, maybe because you’re suffering the light psychosis that is being 2? Or because it is precisely 5:00, your evil-time?”

It’s funny, too, because my horrified reaction to this training-wheels-bullying reveals to me a weird expectation I subconsciously harbor that Harper will behave like I did as a child. “Did I ever hit?” I asked my mother recently. She reported that she could never recall me hitting or doing anything physical like that. “With you at that age it was more that you were, ah, a bit, high-strung. Real, ah…sensitive.” So I burst out into tears and cried, “WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?”  No but really, the hitting thing is just so weird and foreign to me, and I know it’s a normal developmental whatever but also it is a bummer.

So anyway, Dr. Deena prescribed Hands Are Not For Hitting. Harper has really been into it, which for some reason surprised me. It’s a really simple board book, which has not been her thing lately. (We are still in the grips of the achingly long Charlie and Lola’s…) But these “Free Spirit” people know what they are doing. At first I was a little disappointed that the book doesn’t go into why kids hit or don’t hit – it just matter-of-factly says, “Hands are not for hitting. Hands are for…” and then lists nice things like “saying hello” or “playing.” Huh? But really, isn’t that the need-to-know at this point? “Listen, kid, just don’t.”

And while I can’t say it’s totally stopped the hitting, she does ask to read it a lot, and studies the cheery illustration of a plethora of hands for long periods of time. She “read” it to Alton recently after he was thrashing his hands around wildly, and explained to him that hitting makes friends sad. So there you go! Should you find yourself in need of an anti-hitting propaganda picture book, here you are. Hands are not for hitting. Repeat after me. Hands are for…turning book pages…typing…blogging. But hands are not for hitting.

Hands Are Not For Hitting, by Martine Agassi, Ph.D., and illustrated by Marieka Heinlen. Recommended by Harper and Dr. Deena.