My wife is off from work this week, and performing one of our ritual cleansings of toys, clothes and books. Our youngest is almost 5, and past the picture book stage. The oldest is reading Harry Potter. So the days are numbered for “Goodnight Moon.”
“Make sure you don’t throw out ‘Desert Babies!’” I blurted out, a little too desperately, before heading to work the other day.
“Desert Babies” is by no means a classic piece of literature. I remember somewhat blindly picking it up in the Phoenix airport several years ago on the way back from a Spring Training trip — after being too falling-down drunk wrapped up in our national pastime to pick up a real present. It has photos of animals native to Arizona, next to captions such as “Porcupine pup rests on a log!” and “Bobcat kitten learns to hunt!” If the author spent more than 17 minutes writing “Desert Babies,” he’s not managing his time well.
But you can never predict these things, and my older son loved the book. When my younger son was old enough to talk, both boys would sit with me on the couch and we would all take turns making up our own scenarios for the animals.
Me: “Javelina piglet … listens to his iPod!”
5-year-old: “Tortoise hatchlings … fight Darth Vader!”
2-year-old: “Little fawn … eats some lunch!”
At that age, the toddler would end every sentence with “eats some lunch.” This would make me and my older son laugh, and the 2-year-old would start cracking up, too.
So you can see why I can never part with this book.
Here’s an earlier The Poop tribute to “Desert Babies,” which I forgot when I wrote this post. (Getting old …) Three more books I will never give away are below. Yours in the comments.
HOORAY FOR FISH!
Another book that I’ve paid tribute to before. It’s basically “Finding Nemo” but with about 85 percent less drama. Little fish travels through the ocean, meeting happy fish, sad fish, gripey fish, stripey fish, scary fish and a few others, before (spoiler alert!) reuniting with his mother.
I read this probably 3,000 times to my older son, and only 400 times to my younger son. Both could recite the whole thing before they could actually read. The horrible parent that I am, I would intentionally skip a page just to see my (then-3-year-old) firstborn start hopping up and down and yell “You missed Twin-Fin-Fin fish!”
If you invite me to your baby shower, don’t get your hopes up for anything on your registry. Because you will be getting a copy of “Hooray for Fish!”, a “Pingu” DVD and “Rockabye Baby: Lullaby Renditions of Rush.”
RICHARD SCARRY’S THE EARLY BIRD
This was a book apparently given to my older sister by her cousins before I was born. There’s an inscription inside marked “To Toni. From Tim, Chris, Peaches. Summer 1970.”
The plot is riviting. Early bird eats some breakfast (including an egg — cannibal!) goes looking for a friend, and brings home Wiggly Worm. Since I already ruined “Hooray for Fish!”, I won’t tell you what happens next. Does he eat Wiggly Worm? Does he befriend him, play jump-worm and let him sleep in a planter next to his bed? Come to think of it, this should have been a Choose Your Own Adventure.
I read this to both of my sons, and plan to ambush my grandchildren when they’re sick and read “The Early Bird” to them as well. This will be our “The Princess Bride.”
THE SEA SERPENT AND ME
“The Sea Serpent and Me” is basically 40 pages, designed by a sadistic parent-hating author, to make us cry about our kids growing up too fast.
It’s one long metaphor about a kid who finds a sea serpent in her tub, develops an attachment, then has to bring the serpent to the ocean when it grows too big.
Sample text: “I’m very big,” he said. “But the sea’s a lot bigger. Maybe I should stay with you?”
And then there’s this one: “Remember when I was little?” he said. “How I slept in a fish tank next to your bed?”
Dashka Slater must have made a deal with her publisher where she’s paid by the salty tears of sobbing parents. I plan to keep this book until my kids go to college, read it a page at a time with a glass of cheap scotch in my hand, while my empty nest dog barks at the front door begging for a walk. “Not now, little replacement dog. I need to curl in a fetal position again and read ‘The Sea Serpent and Me’ …”
What books will you never part with?