It felt like we were choosing the children
themselves, as though the quality of
illustrations and story would certainly
affect their burgeoning development.
Choose Green Eggs instead of Cloudy
Meatballs, and our children might speak
in contrived sing-song rhymes, instead of
complete, coherent sentences. On the
other hand, should we decide on Cloudy;
might they stand outside with a bowl
every time it rained? Should we
contemplate whether or not, temperature
aside, Goldie Locks filched porridge made
with milk? Should we consider the
presentation of swine using tools to build
their houses in Pigs? We discussed, at
length, the anthropomorphic
representation of carpenter pigs and how
this plays into the paradox of bacon strips:
how they are glorified in a web of stories
then served for breakfast. The
conversation moved deeper –
Say every time we read Wild Things
aloud, would we also feel the need to
add our own commentary – “you know
we are all animals?” What if they get
to kindergarten and they don’t know
that the big “bad” wolf ate grandma?
Will other children laugh at them?
Ashley and I, too, were outcasts as
children; this is comforting.