peskypippi.comBecause I have a lot to say…

Here are some of our favorite children’s books:

1. In The Night Kitchen (Classic. Creative.)
   
2. Trouble at the Dinosaur Cafe (Empowering non-aggressive dinosaurs to take action.)
   
3. Jamberry (Rhyming is fun. Pictures are peaceful and creative.)
   
4. Owl Babies (Sweet and reassuring.)
   
5. The Giving Tree (Classic. Beautiful, lovely tree. Each time we read this, we get pissed at the man who takes advantage of the tree.)
   
6. The King, The Mice and The Cheese (Funny and clever. About getting along.)
   
7. Everyone Poops (Funny. Great pictures. Simple message.)
   
8. Sally on the Farm (Clever, wood-carved illustrations. You’ll love Sally the Black Labrador.)
   
9. Goodnight Moon (Classic. Calming. Perfect book.)
   
10. The Amazing Travels of Ingrid Our Turtle, by Land, Sea, Sky, Space! (You root for Ingrid, who travels the world at her own pace.)
    

I’d love to know your favorites…please share in the comments!

Reading is cool,

Pippi

One of my all-time favorite poems is Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout by Shel Silverstein, from the book Where the Sidewalk Ends.

This poem is best when read to children, really fast. It particularly reminds me of home. Uh, MY home.

Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout

by Shel Silverstein

Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
Would not take the garbage out.
She’d wash the dishes and scrub the pans
Cook the yams and spice the hams,
And though her parents would scream and shout,
She simply would not take the garbage out.
And so it piled up to the ceiling:
Coffee grounds, potato peelings,
Brown bananas and rotten peas,
Chunks of sour cottage cheese.
It filled the can, it covered the floor,
It cracked the windows and blocked the door,
With bacon rinds and chicken bones,
Drippy ends of ice cream cones,
Prune pits, peach pits, orange peels,
Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal,
Pizza crusts and withered greens,
Soggy beans, and tangerines,
Crusts of black-burned buttered toast,
Grisly bits of beefy roast.
The garbage rolled on down the halls,
It raised the roof, it broke the walls,
I mean, greasy napkins, cookie crumbs,
Blobs of gooey bubble gum,
Cellophane from old bologna,
Rubbery, blubbery macaroni,
Peanut butter, caked and dry,
Curdled milk, and crusts of pie,
Rotting melons, dried-up mustard,
Eggshells mixed with lemon custard,
Cold French fries and rancid meat,
Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat.
At last the garbage reached so high
That finally it touched the sky,
And none of her friends would come to play,
And all of her neighbors moved away;
And finally, Sarah Cynthia Stout
Said, “Okay, I’ll take the garbage out!”
But then, of course it was too late,
The garbage reached across the state,
From New York to the Golden Gate;
And there in the garbage she did hate
Poor Sarah met an awful fate
That I cannot right now relate
Because the hour is much too late
But children, remember Sarah Stout,
And always take the garbage out.

I have a lovely stack of books. And they are staring at me from my nightstand, just waiting to be read:

• Wesley the Owl by Stacey O’Brien
• How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents by Julia Alvarez
• Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Jamie Ford
• The Dressmaker of Khair Khana by Gayle Tzemach Lemmon
• The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein

But I ignore their stare. It seems the second I pick up a book, these days, it’s pushing midnight, and I nod off like an old man and then re-read the same page over and over.

I have always loved to read. Growing up, I had lots of quiet time to enjoy my books. My mother was great at fueling my reading habit and has always surprised me with new book selections, just perfect for a child, then a tween, then a teen.

And she still buys me books whenever we meander through book stores together. Uh, you still remember book stores, don’t you? I admit, I’m not a Kindle gal (yet). I find pleasure in holding a physical book, turning the paper pages, and marking the paused page with a fancy bookmark, hand-drawn by my daughter.

For now, I think I’ll move the books under a heap of laundry. As they sit there unread, they are making me feel guilty and overwhelmed. And books shouldn’t feel like a “to do” list.

Until then, off to read Charlotte’s Web to the two little ones.

Is there anything more cheery than a pumpkin? The color screams HELLO FALL. With their shapes, bumps, and quirkiness, pumpkins exude character. And I just love ‘em. So finding the perfect pumpkin for me is finding one that might not quite fit in. I seek out the pumpkins with personality. Not the fat, rounded, “perfect” pumpkins that Martha always picks. Last year, I went for one with the lumps and bumps. (Which, I admit, was a pain in the ass to carve.) This year, I went for the squash-like pumpkin, with its misshapen figure.

Kinda like the pumpkin, er (spoiler alert) squash in the book The Ugly Pumpkin. Have you read it? It’s a great book that teaches us that looks may be deceiving. You know, don’t judge a pumpkin by its skin? The pumpkin in the book was ridiculed for not belonging. It was simply trying to find its place in the world. Turned out the pumpkin was not a pumpkin; it was a squash and fit in perfectly at the Thanksgiving table.

Maybe now you’ll seek out the ugly pumpkin (or squash) and give it a proper home for the season.

Yeah. We talk about poop at our house. All the time. It’s funny. Everybody does it. Poop happens. One of our favorite books: Everyone Poops. That book is the best. You can see animals actually pooping. You can see poop in babies’ diapers. You learn that poop is all different sizes and shapes, even different smells. Love it!

Poop shouldn’t be a taboo subject at home. It should be a topic…at DINNER. Yep, we disgusted my sister-in-law once at dinner because we were talking about poop. She doesn’t have kids. Still doesn’t. Did we scare her off?

Maybe the family that talks about poop openly is more regular. I know one thing: just saying the word out loud makes me crack a smile. (Did I just say “crack?”)

One of my all-time favorite movie lines is in Harry Potter when Hagrid says, “Better out than in.”