MotherReader

I make the rounds of a few mommy and daddy blogs, but only if they’ve got a bit of the funny about them. Notes From the Trenches is written by a mom of seven kids who seems to handle it all with a laid-back style and a sense of humor. On her sub-blog she talked about a special holiday tradition with Christmas books. She wraps them up and opens one a day as sort of a literary advent calendar. I think that is so cool.

When she opened up the comments to other holiday traditions from readers, I could only think of two long-standing traditions. We always order pizza on Christmas Eve because we’re so blown out from all the holiday preparations. We did it a couple of times, and then it seemed funny to keep doing it, and that’s how traditions start in my family. Also, for years we had the tradition of the Domino-experience Christmas tree. We wanted a tree that we could pick out, pay for, and bring home in thirty minutes or less. For years my in-laws would try to get us to go to this Christmas tree farm an hour away to trudge through the cold and chop down a tree. They could not get it that we wanted a tree with minimal fuss. Last year my mother gave us her artificial tree, and though I don’t love it — it’s pretty skinny — I don’t care enough to get a better one or pay seventy dollars for a live tree.

But I forgot our most important Christmas tradition. I always take my kids for a Christmas picture at JC Penney (the $9.99 package of one pose, 37 pictures) and then to see Santa in the mall. We have done this every year, except the one year I tried Target’s photography studio, which appeared to be staffed by employees on rotations from the stockroom. They were rude, used bad poses, and took terrible pictures. At JC Penney the employees are nice, actually seem like they do this job often, and keep taking pictures until they get a good one.

This year we were early for our photo session. I know, unprecedented. We finished quickly and were on to see Santa in no time. My husband skipped out of work early to join us for what will probably be my seven-year-old’s last Christmas of believing in the mall Santa Claus. It was very sweet, especially my ten-year-old playing along and sitting beside Santa. Our picture of them with Santa is total crap. The seven-year-old is squinting, and Santa looks like he has a hangover, but it’s still special.

My other holiday tradition is reading to my daughter’s classes. Today I’ll go to the fifth grade and read Hanukkah at Valley Forge, by Stephen Krensky. For my oh-so-careful-it’s-politically-correct school system, the book is a little heavy on the religious history of Hanukkah. However, since it continually makes the connection between the fight of the Maccabees and America’s fight with the British, I’m calling the whole thing historical and I’m going with it. The book does have basis in historical fact, as it was noted in an American Revolution period diary that General Washington had learned about Hanukkah from a Polish soldier.

I’ll also read A Christmas Tree in the White House, by Gary Hines. It’s an interesting book with a historical background that makes it ideal to share with fifth graders. The book recounts the fictionalized story of the Roosevelt children sneaking a tree into their bedroom in the White House when their father said that they couldn’t have a tree. Theodore Roosevelt was concerned about conservation of the forests and didn’t think that the president should set an example for the country by cutting down a tree. Can you imagine — a president who cares about conservation? It seems so quaint.

I have noted that I am generally unlucky in an irony-prone way. I am also endowed with the useless gift of bargain shopping. So how will these two traits of mine coexist in this holiday-shopping season?

My ten-year-old girl is convinced that she wants a Roboraptor for Christmas. My husband and I thought that the kids were not going to get $100 dollars of enjoyment out of this toy and decided to pass on it. However, we’re also not getting her the iPod she wants, and as I looked at the gifts spread out on my day off, I noticed that they seemed lame. Majorly lame.

And then this morning, I’m sipping my coffee and making headway into feeling like a human being when what to my wondering eyes should appear, but an ad in Circuit City’s flyer for a Roboraptor for — it’s exciting — $30. I almost did a spit-take with my coffee. I had my husband calling the store to see when it opened while I looked online. The store had opened an hour earlier. There was no way that robotic creature was still there, but I’m a mom. A mom with hope and lame pile of presents in the closet, so off I went.

When I got to the store, I couldn’t find it anywhere. I asked one person who pointed me in a vague direction. I asked another person who didn’t know, but who asked a third person. And that third person, oh bless him, retrieved the last Roboraptor from the back room. I was so happy that I think I actually jumped up and down.

Later that day, I remembered that I had wanted to stop by the fabric store for this storage case that I could get with a fifty-percent-off coupon. The stacks of cases were gone, but a week ago I had brought one of the cases to the jewelry department and left it there when I found a cheaper case. Amazingly enough, it was still there, and I bought it for half price. Then to the craft store where, also a week ago, I had seen a planter that would be perfect for my seven-year-old’s gardening project. I forgot to buy it then, but maybe it would still be there. It was, along with some beads that were now seventy percent off.

Dare I try my luck with one more store in the same complex? Oh, why not. In Ross, maybe a month ago, I remembered thinking there was a perfect gift for my seven-year-old that I would have to come back and buy when I had more time. Today, I couldn’t even remember what that gift was, but I thought I might as well walk through the store and see if I remembered. Now Ross is one of those discount stores with a little bit of everything, and stuff goes fast, so there was little chance that something I saw there a month ago would still be there. And yet it was. A house for Bratz babies at a whopping $25.

In the race of the MotherReader traits, apparently bargain-shopping is kicking irony-prone’s butt!

I still have to make daily pilgrimages to Toys ’R’ Us for their mega-cheap MP3 player, which we hope will tide over the ten-year-old’s iPod hunger. It can’t be found online, but the store is supposed to get more players in some time during the week. Which will win out this time? Stay tuned.

Oh, and since this is a book blog, I’ll assure you that I did buy books for those I love as well. I have bought I’m With Stupid; Sippy Cups are not for Chardonnay; The Wizard, The Witch, and Two Girls from Jersey; I Was a Teenage Popsicle; Clarice Bean Spells Trouble; Goose Chase; Te Amo, Bebé, Little One; Lilly’s Big Day; Snoozers; The Little Green Goose; and Don’t Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late.

“I cannot go to school today,”
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
“I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I’m going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I’ve counted sixteen chicken pox
And there’s one more — that’s seventeen,
And don’t you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut, my eyes are blue —
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I’m sure that my left leg is broke —
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button’s caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle’s sprained,
My ’pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb,
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my spine is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out,
My elbow’s bent, my spine ain’t straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is — what?
What’s that? What’s that you say?
You say today is... Saturday?
G’bye, I’m going out to play!”

I’ve always loved this poem — “Sick,” by Shel Silverstein — and the book Where the Sidewalk Ends itself (it would be a mighty fine gift, in fact), but I chose it today to represent my week of feeling like crap. Why is always when you need to get it together and get stuff done that your body falls apart? Very annoying.

On Monday I took my Girl Scout troop shopping for stocking stuffers for the Salvation Army. Then we celebrated our shopping success with pizza and talking. I came home to supervise homework for an hour, cooked dinner, and then went to the Girl Scout leader meeting. There we had a supposed-to-be-short-but-really-a-freaking-hour-long-meeting and a gift exchange, with lots of laughing and talking. On Tuesday, my throat hurt (see the “talking” references) and my head ached, but I went to work because I had traded shifts with a co-worker and it seemed like bad form to switch hours and then not show up. Afterwards, I rested at home for an hour and then went to the drama club rehearsal (not a lot of talking) and then to the drama club play (much more talking with the parents). The play went very well.

On Wednesday, I felt so bad when I woke up that I took a sick day. I cleaned up some photo stuff on my computer and read and napped. And that’s about it. On Thursday, I have no idea where the morning went, but I spent the afternoon and evening at work.

Now, on none of those days will you see that I “did Christmas shopping” or “cleaned the house” or “put away laundry.” Here it is Friday, and I don’t work today. I do feel better (Yeah!), but I have a week’s worth of chores to do (Boo!). I have some reviews that I would love to get up soon — like today — but that may just have to wait. I haven’t seen who’s doing the Poetry Friday round-up today, but I can guarantee that it’s not me.

With Christmas fast approaching and the gift-buying frenzy in full swing, I had decided not to waste my precious book recommendation space with any more reviews of books that... well, stink. And then I read Ann M. Martin’s On Christmas Eve and all bets were off, because I can see the possibility of folks buying this book as a gift knowing nothing about it.

Allow me to correct that. I will also give away pretty much everything that happens in this book. Why? Because when it comes to Santa, parents better know what they are putting in front of their kids, that’s why.

When Tess is eight, she is determined to stay up on Christmas Eve and talk to Santa. She knows that her older sister Evvie doesn’t believe in Santa Claus, but Tess has something really important to ask him. Tess’s friend Sarah has a very sick father who has cancer. The family doesn’t know if he’ll be out of the hospital for Christmas, or if he’ll even recover. Tess wants to ask Santa to use his magic to help Sarah’s father get better.

Tess has some odd experiences and she takes these as a sign that she’ll see Santa. She stays up until midnight on Christmas Eve and sees all sorts of magic. The animals gather outside, there is an angel who appears, and her dog Sadie talks to her. Santa comes and gives each person a small present in their stocking or under the tree. Tess does talk to Santa and he mostly agrees with her theories of why he can’t help everybody, rather than give the explanations himself.

“Evvie says that if there really is a Santa, he should give lots and lots of gifts to poor children, but that poor children sometimes don’t get any presents at all. I said that’s because you try to do other things for their families, like find houses for them to live in, or find jobs for the grown-ups. Is that right?”

“I do my best,” replies Santa...

“So is it true? You do something for everyone, but you do different things for different people? Like for us, you just leave a couple of presents, because we already have so much. And you give magic to other people.”

“Yes, that’s so,” agrees Santa.

Even though Tess believes that Santa has said he will help Sarah’s father, early the next year the dad dies. Tess eventually comes to think that Santa can’t make people well, but that Tess herself can help Sarah. She realizes, “Sarah didn’t get the gift I asked Santa to give her last year, but she found hope — Christmas magic too, I think — and that is a powerful gift.”

I have multiple problems with this book, including the cancer Christmas story, the over-the-top magic that happens on Christmas Eve, the explanations for how Santa helps people, and the talking dog. If this all sounds delightful to you, fine. Just be sure that you’re comfortable with the elements of the story before you give the book as a gift.

Later today I’m coming back with some honest-to-goodness reviews. Or life stories. Or updates on my cold. Or something of true readable value. However, I have to stop the presses for a possible new contestant for my favorite search strings. I listed a few beauties in my post, “I am Thankful for StatCounter,” and I am still pretty attached to the search Winnie the Pooh look like a pimp (True dat, I say). I’m amused that many searches (six yesterday alone) for Mo Willems and say, cute or married, lead to my blog. But I’m dazed and amazed by this search from yesterday:

statistics how many children call their mothers bitches

OMG! What!!!???

But I don’t want to judge or even deeply wonder about why such a thing is needed or is an issue. Let’s just give an answer. I’ll say... seventeen.

Mitali Perkins, author of Rickshaw Girl, asks, “Who’s your blog crush?” Is there a blog that you wish would notice your blog? Would mention — and love — your new book? Would list you on their blogroll, especially after months of commenting back and forth on each others’ blogs but someone you haven’t made their blogroll making you wonder if they just forgot or didn’t get around to updating it or if they aren’t really crazy about your blog after all? I gave my answer over at The Fire Escape — now you can, too.

I’m tired. And I’m sick. My throat hurts and my head aches. I’m back from work this morning, and now I need to get in a rest before my afternoon really takes off. At 3:30 I have the drama club’s rehearsal, then it’s a Brownie ceremony, then to the store for flowers for the drama performance, then make the kids do homework, then heat up some pizza, then go to the drama club play, then put the kids to bed, and then — and only then — can I pour the wine. Little Penguin is my new favorite.

I was going to skip a post, but when I went to Yahoo to check my mail this little miracle came to my attention. It’s a hamster in a video game. Kind of. Not at all book-related, but very clever and amusing.

And while you’re on You Tube, visit the Tohubohu Productions channel for our recently uploaded films. Give them a viewing, and hopefully a favorable rating. Bonus points if you see me in any of them (my favorite role was as “girl who flips her hair” in “The Big Lie”).

Classic children’s literature meet graphic novel. Graphic novel, meet classic children’s literature. Now, duke it out.

I wanted so much to like this adaptation, New Alice in Wonderland by Rod Espinosa. Maybe the graphic novel format would update this wonderful book and bring it back to kids. Well, that wishful thinking lasted until Alice fell down the rabbit hole, which as you may recall, is pretty darn early on in the story. In this case, by page six.

It’s not the illustrations, which are great. Though occasionally Alice loses the pupils in her eyes — usually when she is smaller in the picture — and that creeps me out. The pictures are a good depiction of the plot of the book and are quite well done.

The problem is that without the rich, full, evocative text of Lewis Carroll, the whole thing feels empty. It’s just a strange dream, with no meaning. The value to Alice in Wonderland is allowing the words of the story to assist the reader in conjuring up this magical, strange world for themselves. When the pictures are already done, then the reader has nothing left to contribute. It’s a weird trip, nothing more.

Now, a few days ago Fuse#8 reported on a new Alice book coming out soon that is supposed to be amazing. That book does incorporate more stories, so maybe it will won’t have the same issues as this little manga volume. But I’ll be interested to see if it brings something new to the classic story instead of just taking away the reader’s involvement in imagining Wonderland.

I remember reading that the long-awaited publication day of your first book — or second or third, for that matter — is not all it’s cracked up to be. There’s no fanfare, no parades, no phone calls from friends. Unlike a movie premiere, there’s no paparazzi or televised interviews. But still, it’s your baby’s birthday, even if you’re the only one who knows it. So, before this day closes out (it kind of got away from me), let me wish a Happy Birth Day to Antoinette Portis’s book, Not a Box.

Not a Box shows a little bunny having fun with a box, as all little kids will do. With a little imagination the box becomes a mountain, a rocket, or a robot costume. The bunny goes in the box and on the box. He (or she) wears the box and waters the box. And all through the book, the unseen adult voice questions the bunny’s actions. The little bunny insists all along that “It’s not a box,” and the reader can see how right the little bunny is, even if the questioning adult can’t see it.

The line drawings are very simple, just bunny and box. When the bunny asserts that it’s not a box, the reader sees the box the way the bunny sees it. The book cover is boxlike brown paper with a weight indication on the front and “This End Up” on the back. The text is simple and allows for the child to take the bunny’s part in the story.

When I drove my seven-year-old and her friend to ballet, this book was in the back seat with them. They read it over and over again, taking turns being the grown-up and the bunny. It would have been much more heartwarming if the reading and the resulting laugher — and apparently necessary yelling — hadn’t taken place about two feet from my head. For a solid twenty minutes. But I can safely say that it was a hit.

I haven’t been at this blogging thing long enough to be recycling posts, and yet that’s what I’m doing today. I didn’t have a great Poetry Friday selection — not even a picture book that I could use. So I’m going back to the best poetry book ever, which I wrote about in July. But now it’s the holiday season, and this would make a great gift.

Poetry Speaks to Children is a collection of modern and classic poems from a diverse group of poets that includes Ogden Nash, Langston Hughes, Sonia Sanchez, and Roald Dahl. This diversity is what I love — love — about this collection. “Gas,” by C.K. Williams — a poem that uses the word “fart” multiple times — is one page away from a poem from Macbeth. A Native American poem taken from a Osage prayer is followed my a poem by Rudyard Kipling. There is something in this book for everyone to enjoy and to relate to. The eclectic collection exposes the reader to many different styles of poetry.

And if that weren’t enough to sell this book, it is accompanied by a CD of the poems read by the poets. Thanks to archival copies, today’s children can hear readings of Robert Frost and Langston Hughes, among others. There are also readings by Nikki Giovanni and J.R. R. Tolkien. Tolkien, I said. Not all of the poems are included on the CD, but enough for an hour’s worth of driving. (Well, when do you listen to CDs?)

And there is still more, because the book involves three illustrators who bring these poems to life. One illustrator may have led to an overly consistent style of art that wouldn’t have reflected the very different kinds of poems. But with three, we get a mix of styles — while still keeping a general consistency. It would have been jarring to see radically different art styles, but though the illustrators each bring a unique flavor to the poem, the pictures flow well from one to another.

For the holiday season, package this book with a coupon for one-on-one reading time with the recipient, as it is truly a book to be shared.

The Good:
I liked the look of Meghan McCarthy’s picture book Steal Back the Mona Lisa! but only skimmed it at work. Reading it with my seven-year-old, I had time to pause over the pictures and look for the bad guys hidden in the different scenes, and I really enjoyed it.

Jack is sleeping in his room in New York City, while in France, two crooks are stealing the Mona Lisa. Their master plan is to paint a disfiguring mustache on the lovely lady. Jack goes on a secret agent spy mission to find the missing painting. He has special agent clothes, a special agent watch, and special agent transportation to take him to the scene of the crime. There are parts that are a little confusing for an over-thinking adult. Like where is he driving to meet the jet (it looks like the Pacific coastline)? But I can’t imagine kids will care when they can put themselves in a secret agent’s shoes. Oh, and there’s a little bonus history section at the end about the real theft of the Mona Lisa in 1911.

The Bad:
Maybe it’s just bad for me, but I didn’t like Skippyjon Jones in Mummy Trouble by Judy Schachner. I did like the first Skippyjon Jones book, but I haven’t been a fan of the sequels. Sorry. In this book, Skippyjon Jones — as his alter-ego Skippito — goes to sees the mummies in Egypt with his Chihuahua friends. He gets in trouble and almost becomes a mummy himself, but escapes with two pawfuls of peas (don’t ask). There are lots of silly jokes (like the peas) and lots of songs and lots of Spanish words sprinkled throughout. Skippyjon Jones lovers needn’t write this book off, but it did nothing for me.

The Ugly:
The story of The Biggest Parade by Elizabeth Wintrop is fine. A man is responsible for making a great town parade and involves everyone, but there is no one left in town to watch the parade — except for the man’s dog who didn’t want to be in the parade and now has an important role to play as spectator. Again, the story is fine. But the pictures! Yikes. Creep-out city. You may get fooled by the pretty-cute dog on the cover, but the people are weird. Ugly weird. Look closer at the bottom of the cover and you’ll see ugly, big-nose guy, the crying, creepy twins, and the legless, big-headed baby. Yes, legless. The baby is in a back carrier but there are no legs sticking out of it. I say again, yikes.

I get up this morning at 7:30. Okay, 7:39 thanks to the nine-minute snooze on my alarm clock. Get the kids ready for school, which involves getting their breakfast and making their lunches. For the rest, I am the cheerleader. Get dressed. Brush your teeth. Comb your hair. Does everyone have homework, backpacks, coats, shoes? Let’s go.

Home again. Find the books I am reading to the second-grade class today. Darn, left one at work. Find replacement book. Look for paperwork I need to give the teacher. Can’t find it. Decide it would be a miracle if I found it in this mess and give up, gracefully.

Call the roller-skating rink to book a date for the Girl Scouts. Call Girl Scout service unit coordinator to pass on skating information. Firm up some details of the skating outing. Collect ten old toys for second-grader to take to school for the swap. Wonder how many she will refuse to exchange. Throw in two extras.

Call the Rec Center to register second-grader for ballet class. Explain to two people that no, she doesn’t meet the age requirement for the class, but yes, the teacher said that she could sign up for it. Remind same two people that second-grader was already signed up for same class in the fall, when she was four months younger, so it really was just fine. Get bumped up to program manager. Leave message conveying problem and resulting irritation.

Search house for working flashlight and globe to bring to work for program today. Wonder briefly how many children will comment on dent in globe from where second-grader stepped on it. Gather other supplies for program, including plastic bag and fake tea lights. Find two books for program tomorrow.

Send out email for a change in Drama club’s meeting place next Tuesday. Remember to check Tohubohu’s site for biography information update. Look briefly. Decide that unless listed as a hooker, not important. Check MotherReader. Wonder why only one commented on Cathy’s Book post. Perhaps didn’t need to stay up until midnight to post that one. Lesson learned.

Pick up pocket calendar from scattered Girl Scout papers on floor. Realize that change in admission for skating will affect budget plans. Make quick note on budget paperwork.

Take shower. Get dressed. Wonder if anyone notices obsession with black T-shirts, sweaters, or tops with whatever else. Decide should make it a thing, like Simon on American Idol. Put powder in new shoes.

Grab bagel and juice box to eat during lunch with second-grader. Grab books to read to class. Grab books for library programs. Grab globe, flashlight, and other gear. Grab jacket for later. Take one last look for papers for teacher. Amazingly enough, find them. Go to school.

Read Estela’s Swap, since it’s related to the swap tomorrow. Read But Excuse Me That Is My Book to the class, with second-grader playing Lola. (Put in audio one more time, giving blogfriends a last chance to hear and comment). With five minutes left, read Chickens to the Rescue. Accept lively response. Join class for lunch.

See fifth-grade daughter in cafeteria. Say hello. Ignore panicked expression as she wonders if I will try to sit with her. Return to second-grader’s table where I am appreciated. Run into first-grade teacher who inquires after now-second-grader. Discuss second-grader’s attention problems. Leave school.

Get in car. Drive to work. Hit seven red lights. Squeak through three yellow lights. Come to information desk. Sit at computer. Wonder what stinks. Realize that new shoes have manure on them from gardening work at school. Understand how truly fitting this is.

And it’s only 2:00.

Apparently, I live in a cave.

A few months ago there was all sorts of buzz about a book that incorporated a new marketing paradigm. It was big news in the book world. Many bloggers of teen books and writers and authors wrote about this new book. There was alarm! There was disgust! There was nausea!

And I never noticed.

So, when the publishers wrote and asked if I’d like a copy of the book to review, I said, “Sure.” And when I received it, I put it aside and kind of forgot about it. But then I saw a mention, just a tiny mention, on a blogfriend’s site. I can’t even remember where. And I thought, “Oh, I have that book,” and started reading it.

As it turns out, it’s pretty darn entertaining.

Cathy’s Book: If Found Call 650-266-8233 includes business cards, photos, a menu, and a napkin, among many other things in a pocket on the inside cover of the book. The book itself has websites to visit, numbers to call, codes to break. It bills itself as an interactive experience, and I agree. I’m not a huge puzzle-solver kind of gal, but I found the whole thing pretty intriguing. I liked leafing through the paper crap, and I tried a number and web search or two. It was fun. The format of the book is interesting too, with sketches on every page and sometimes excerpts from instant messaging. The story kept me moving along, wondering what would happen next.

Cathy’s been dumped by her older boyfriend and wonders what went wrong. But wondering isn’t enough, especially when she has an unexplained needle mark on her arm. With the help of her best friend Emma and a variety of self-done disguises, Cathy investigates her ex-boyfriend. She goes into his house, rifles through some papers, and finds more mysteries to solve. Soon she’s in over her head with no way back. The characters are seriously flawed. Victor drugs Cathy to take blood. Cathy breaks into his house. Cathy’s mom drinks gin like coffee. Thinking about it, why would Cathy want Victor back? Why would Victor continue to have feelings for Cathy if she’s a stalker? But I suspect that is the adult in me talking, and this book is very clearly for teens.

Halfway through the book, I wondered who in the kidlitosphere had reviewed it. Searching Technorati, I found what appeared to be lots of teens’ blogs raving about the book, but no one else. Okay, one brief review from The Goddess of YA Literature, but that was all. It was as I went further back that I realized the whole marketing controversy.

Is there a vow of reviewing silence that I was supposed to take as a stand against marketing tie-ins? Did I miss a meeting?

I guess in this world of cross-promotion, product placement in movies, and viral marketing, it’s going to take more than one changed line in a book to get me riled up. I mean, I believed LonelyGirl15 was real until I was forced to accept the truth, and now she has ads after the videos. If I hadn’t searched for information about this book, I would have never known about the marketing tie-in. It’s certainly a less obvious product placement than other books. But, presumably, those books didn’t make money on the promotion of the product. But, supposedly, neither did Cathy’s Book. But it did get cross promotion on Cover Girl’s website. But Target is connected with J. Otto Seibold and promoted The Fuchsia Is Now! and no one has raised a fuss. I’m sorry, what was the issue again?

Oh, maybe it was that girls are going to flock to Cathy’s Book whether it’s linked to Cover Girl or Clinique, or even coveralls because it’s a fun book. Not a great book, but a fun book.

Last Monday, I listed some books that had come into my library. I said I’d be back later in the week with fuller reviews of the ones that I took home. Well, that didn’t so much happen. In my defense, I specifically didn’t promise, and last Tuesday I did manage to get in a post about the Charlie and Lola book. Remember? The one where my kids did the reading with British accents?

So, it’s really my own fault if Fuse#8 scooped me on The Shivers in the Fridge, by Fran Manushkin. In fact, I’m glad she did, because her review has only made my own thoughts on this book that much clearer. Really.

There’s a family living in the refrigerator. They are very cold and very alarmed by the monsters that keep grabbing things. They huddle together at night, and the mom tells the boy stories. One by one, they each venture out to find a better place and get taken by the monsters — or as we like to call ourselves, the people — until only the boy is left. Then it’s up to him to be brave and face the monsters himself.

As it turns out, the whole family are magnets. When they are taken out one by one, they are returned to their home on the front of the fridge, and there they are happy and warm. After we finished the book, my seven-year-old daughter asked me why the family is called the Shivers if they aren’t really meant to live in the fridge. And I don’t have the answer for her. I also don’t know why they didn’t recognize the people they must have seen in the kitchen. When I first read this book, I liked that I didn’t know what was going on and I didn’t guess that they were a family of magnets. But, the story didn’t hold up to further readings. Plus, I wasn’t crazy about the illustrations.

Now, Chickens to the Rescue was pure fun. The illustrations are cute and funny. The story is simple and silly. It takes place on a farm, and every time something goes wrong, the chickens rush in and save the day. Until the end... but you’ll have to read it to see what happens that day. This book would be fun at storytime with children chiming in on the chickens to the rescue refrain. As it turns out, Fuse#8 scooped me on this book too, but it was so long ago that it probably doesn’t even count anymore. Really.

This month in The Edge of the Forest I’m back with the last list of funny books for all ages. This time it’s books for teens. A shout-out to Little Willow who gave me some great suggestions and helped me fill in some gaps. Later I’ll post the titles here on MotherReader as part of my “MotherReader Suggests” section. In the meantime, cruise on over to The Edge of the Forest and check out the features, reviews, and interviews that it has to offer. You won’t be sorry.

About a week ago, Blog From the Windowsill tagged me for a book meme. I had seen this particular meme making the rounds and was deeply frightened, knowing I could do it no justice. I have a terrible memory for books I’ve read and for my childhood in general. But I’ve been tagged, and fair is fair. I did make one of the middle questions (it was number three) the last question, so I could end on a strong note.

1. How old were you when you learned to read and who taught you?

Let’s say five, because I know it was before kindergarten, and my mom swears that I taught myself.

2. Did you own any books as a child? If so, what’s the first one that you remember owning? If not, do you recall any of the first titles that you borrowed from the library?

I remember having lots of books. All kinds of Dr. Seuss. Lots of those little Golden Books. I remember specifically the Frances and the Raggedy Ann books. As an older child, I know that my whole bookcase was always full.

3. Were you a re-reader as a child? If so, which book did you re-read most often?

I re-read pretty much everything. Some favorites were the Little House series, the Narnia books, Judy Blume books, Pippi Longstocking, Raggedy Ann, and Winnie the Pooh.

4. What’s the first adult book that captured your interest and how old were you when you read it?

I’m guessing here, but I’d say The Hobbit and The Lord of The Rings, but I have no idea when I read them.

5. Are there children’s books that you passed by as a child that you have learned to love as an adult? Which ones?

Again, I’m guessing, but I don’t think I read Little Women until I was an adult.

6. What’s the first book that you bought with your own money?

I haven’t the slightest idea. So, instead let me tell a book-buying story. I grew up in a small rural town in Virginia. Every couple of months there would be this huge book sale in a converted barn. People came from all over to buy overstocks, damaged books, returns, etc. Not only was this before eBay, but I don’t think even the discount booksellers had hit the scene yet (and if so, not in the Shenandoah Valley), so this was a big deal. My mom and I would go early and wait in line. When the doors opened, we made our way around the tables upstairs (the nicer stuff) or the shelves downstairs (lots of books without the covers). With people shuffling along down the tight aisles, there wasn’t a lot of time to ponder our choices. If we were interested at all, we grabbed a copy of the title to look at later. There were some people stocking their bookstores, but not many and they were civil about it. They might take one of each title, but they didn’t hoard them all. Once we’d filled our box or bag, we took our selections outside for a closer look. The ones we didn’t want went back on big tables left there for this purpose. Then mom and I would negotiate for what she would buy for me (I suspect the entire F. Scott Fitzgerald collection fit in that category) and what I was paying for myself (maybe the green leather copy of The Hobbit seen here that I bought for two bucks). The book sale was one of my absolute favorite things, combining reading and bargain shopping. What total bliss.

I believe that everyone has one useless skill.

I know someone who always finds a good parking place in a full lot. I know someone who always wins small games of Bingo or door prizes. My kids, apparently, can do British accents. And though these skills actually can be quite useful at times, they are useless in terms of marketability. There are no parking-place finder jobs. There are no door prize winner jobs. There are no British accents jobs (unless you count the success of Gwyneth Paltrow and Renée Zellweger).

My useless skill is bargain shopping. It’s a skill born of equal parts willpower, luck, and good shopping instincts.

I demonstrated willpower when I went into Staples at 6:00 in the morning the day after Thanksgiving to buy a laminator, 100 recordable DVDs, and photo paper which will cost me a total of ten bucks after rebates. (Don’t worry — I never forget the rebates). I walked out of Staples with nothing else.

I demonstrated luck when I went into JC Penney’s this spring and found the lowest priced clearance stuff ever — everything was $2.77 — right inside the door. I found a perfect pair of black pants, a black shift, and a jacket to wear over the outfit. When I got home, I realized that the pieces I had put together for about nine bucks was the three-piece outfit that sold in the store for ninety dollars. If there were some sort of shopping Olympics, I would have won it.

I demonstrated good shopping instincts (and a little bit of luck) when I took my daughter to Ross last week and bought three jeans, cargo pants, one sweater, and six shirts for less than a hundred dollars. Plus, the sweater and one pair of jeans were from Limited Two, where such things usually run about forty dollars each.

Probably because I am so good at it, I love shopping. I can’t imagine a year without it. But that is what Judith Levine chronicles in her book, Not Buying It: My Year Without Shopping.

After a $1001 Christmas shopping season — in which she didn’t think she was being particularly generous — Judith and her husband decide to undertake a project to not shop for a year. They also skip other consumer entertainment, like movies and plays and dinners out. They are asked by many friends what is “allowed” in their yearlong lifestyle. They allow themselves all groceries, but argue about whether wine is essential. They won’t pay for a movie or dinner, but they occasionally allow their friends to treat.

The journey takes them through the simplicity movements in NYC and a self-sufficient man in Vermont. Along the way the author talks about our consumer nation — in regards to 9/11 (Show you’re not afraid. Go to restaurants. Go shopping.) and as our given American right. It’s an interesting book that varies from essay-type passages, to information laden sections, to her own personal experiences. The book didn’t change my life, by any means, but it was interesting to read about one person’s perspective on the experience of consuming.

I’m going to guess that most blog entries written today will focus on thankfulness in a sweet and moving way. But not this one. While many people will be wrapped up with family all day or (ugh) watching football, some of us may be using the sweet day of freedom from work and errands to catch up on our blog reading. I think we blog devotees deserve something special today.

First of all, if you missed it on Tuesday, at the end of my post on Charlie and Lola books I included an audio file of my two kids reading from the book. With British accents. So, here’s an excerpt from Lauren Child’s But Excuse Me That Is My Book, and I will keep putting it in my posts until all my blogfriends comment. I’m not kidding.

Today, I am thankful for StatCounter. Not because it records my statistics, but because its keyword search feature brings me joy. I glance at it every day, and usually the searches are for books, authors, or my blog name. But sometimes a search string stands out with a particular comic flair, and I wish I could write to that person specifically and offer my advice, suggestions, or validation. Today is that day.

I am always late
I hear ya. I am always late too. But while my lateness is due to some cosmic — and perhaps comedic — force, I suspect you are just a lazy bastard. My advice? Move faster.

Good to shave eyebrows
I’ve answered this question right in the blog entry title just to save the searchers time. No.

Wine that goes with spaghetti
Ditto.

Winnie the Pooh look like a pimp
True dat.

videos of Vanessa Anne Hudgens sneezing
I can’t imagine why anyone would want such a thing, so let me point you instead to some links to other great videos, including “Lecture Musical.” I even have a link to a movie I helped to write and produce.

gay penguin love
...is a beautiful thing. This search refers to the wonderful book And Tango Makes Three, which was number four on the Amazon children’s bestsellers list just a couple of days ago. Strange, since it came out a couple of years ago. But I stand by this book now and forever.

funny passages without punctuation
Without any punctuation at all? No, can’t help you. But I did write a post with only one period. You could try that.

use ennui in a sentence
I’ll let Jon Stewart do it from his commencement speech at William and Mary in 2004. “We declared war on terror — it’s not even a noun, so... good luck. After we defeat it, I’m sure we’ll take on that bastard ennui.”

ethic carrying a plate
I don’t know what this means, but I think with a little tweaking that it could be a great band name. Or book title.

poems for the dysfunctional family
...and now we’re back to Thanksgiving.

If you do want to read a little bit about real thankfulness, then enjoy the newest Carnival of Children’s Literature, Thanksgiving edtion, put on by Readable Feast. Happy Thanksgiving.

I love Lauren Child’s books about Charlie and Lola. Really, really love them. When I first saw I Will Never Not Ever Eat a Tomato, I was impressed by the particular comic style. The illustrations put me off at first, but I found that they were an acquired taste, like blue cheese or Curb Your Enthusiasm. After I got over the big eyes and pieced-together scenes, I found myself a true fan of the artistic interpretation and how it complements the text.

Then one day I’m minding my own business, and what should come on the Disney Channel but Charlie and Lola! These kids had made the big time with their own short animated series. You can imagine my trepidation given that the show is from Disney, home of such horrors as Pooh Adore-ables and really too many other travesties to children’s literature to name. But, as it turns out, the Charlie and Lola episodes are great. Most preschooler shows these days look like they were put together by the Committee of Important Lessons for Children (so that parents will feel better about their kids watching TV, and therefore we can plug the related toys, books, and clothes). But Charlie and Lola is just clever, funny, and entertaining. What a concept.

When a new Lauren Child book, But Excuse Me That Is My Book, came to my library, I brought it home to read to my seven-year-old. She seemed to be strangely familiar with the story. As it turns out, she had already seen the Charlie and Lola show from this book. Or, more accurately, this book was made from the show. Now the characters have come full circle. First a few books, then a few shows, and now books from the shows.

But you won’t see me complaining this time, because these books are good. How good? School Library Journal Best Books of 2006 good, where it’s listed along with other tops of the year like Lilly’s Big Day and Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Moon.

But Excuse Me That Is My Book tells the story of Lola’s need to find her favorite book at the library, her heartbreak when it’s not there, and Charlie’s assistance in finding her something new. It’s spot-on perfect.

But you know, this post was supposed to be about Winter is My Favorite and My Best, which is also extremely very good, being the story of Charlie and Lola waiting for snow, playing in snow, and talking about snow. Okay, the book reads better than that. Imagine it with characters who entertain and amuse you.

But the best things about these books — besides the clever writing, incredible illustration, and comic style — is that you almost have to read them with a British accent. Especially after having seen the shows, it would be hard to resist. I know I’ve just made my British readers cringe, but maybe this version will win you over. Here’s an excerpt from Lauren Child’s But Excuse Me That Is My Book, as performed by the MotherReader players.

Today is the last day to nominate a book for the Cybil Awards, the book award from the blogging community. Hopefully this award will hit somewhere between the fancy-schmancy Newbery/Caldecott/Printz awards and the popular-purchase Quills. You don’t have to be a blogger to nominate a title, so look at the lists and see if your favorite books are there. If not, add your voice. I’ll be a final judge for picture books, so I’m keeping an eye on that list myself.

Speaking of lists of picture books, it’s time again for...

What Came To My Library.

• Snow Is My Favorite and My Best, by Lauren Child
  I don’t even need to read this book to know that I’ll take it home. I LOVE Charlie and Lola books, even ones based on the shows (more on that later).


• Chickens to the Rescue, by John Himmelman
  As things around the farm go wrong, the chickens rush in to make things right — with crazy results. Simple text will make this book fun to share with my beginning reader. Plus chickens are funny.


• Skippyjon Jones in Mummy Trouble, by Judy Schachner
  Liked the first Skippyjon Jones. Didn’t like the second. But my kids liked both. I’ll give this one a chance.


• I Am A Ballerina, by Valerie Coulman
  My seven-year-old takes ballet, so I’m a sucker for ballerina books. What sets this book apart for me is that the ballerina is Asian — and so is my daughter’s best friend and ballet partner. It looks like a sweet book.


• The Shivers in the Fridge, by Fran Manushkin
  There’s a little family that is living in the fridge. Why? We don’t know — until the end. Worth another read at home.


• Sally’s Snow Adventure, by Stephen Huneck
  The Sally books do nothing for me personally. This one is cute enough with a story about Sally going skiing, getting lost, and being found by the rescue dogs. I do like the picture of the dachshund standing upright on skis. Dachshunds are funny.


• Oops, by Arthur Geisert
  In this wordless picture book, a little pig in a pig family spills his milk, causing a chain reaction that eventually destroys the house. Didn’t like the idea when I first heard about it, not crazy about it now.


• Grumpy Gloria, by Anna Dewdney
  Gloria the dog loves her child companion, but when she ignores Gloria for a new toy, Gloria gets grumpy. The older kids try to cheer her up — in some ways that you wouldn’t wish on any dog — but nothing will do until her best friend comes back to play with her. Cute with particular appeal to the younger kids, given the main character and the simple, large text.


• Can I Bring My Pterodactyl to School, Ms. Johnson? by Lois Grambling
  Uneven story of a kid who wants to bring his dinosaur to school. He hopes to set him on bullies on the playground (which makes the kid seem young) and have him help the school band for homecoming (what elementary schools have homecoming?). Bugged me.


• Steal Back the Mona Lisa, by Meghan McCarthy
  Funny story of a kid who travels to France from New York on a secret spy mission, with all the required secret agent gear. Looks like fun.


• The Gingerbread Girl, by Lisa Campbell Ernst
  The old couple makes a girl hoping that she won’t run away, but she does. But while she was baking, she overheard the story of her brother, so she won’t make the same mistakes. She runs away, lassos the fox, and ends up coming home and teaching everyone to bake gingerbread kids. Then why run away in the first place? Plot holes in picture books aren’t pretty.


• Once Upon A Banana, by Jennifer Armstrong and illustrated by David Small
  I’m not usually a fan of wordless books, but I read a good review about this one and at first glance, it looks like I’d like it. I’ll take it home for a closer look.

So, not a bad crop of picture books. I took home seven for a closer look, and released five to the wild (along with another five Maisy/Arthur/Dora books I didn’t need to review). With any luck, I’ll be back later in the week with fuller reviews for some of the keepers. But I’m not making any promises.