their stories

At last week's storytime, the kids in attendance made their own books as part of the "Day of the Child" celebration at the library.  They got to write and illustrate the stories themselves (or dictate the stories to their caregivers, if necessary).

That's what the elder lass did -- dictate to me a story about a cat who plays at the playground with her sister then has a snack and takes a nap.

Clearly, I am not an illustrator of any distinction.

The younger lad's story was, of course, about a robot.  This unnamed robot (not Sammy) dresses up like a dragon and scales some power lines before resting in some grass.

ro.bot book

While I was writing (taking dictation, that is) and illustrating (ahem) the elder lass's tome, the younger lass went to town on some illustrations of her own.  I'm hoping she'll fill in the story eventually.

younger lass's exuberant artwork, much like her personality.  PS: I'm smitten with my new gold tablecloth.

Complete with snacks and more books, it was a festive conclusion to the school year storytime series our friend the talented librarian does so well.  We're looking forward to summer storytimes starting in June.

Inspired by his siblings' creations, the elder lad starting writing a book of his own -- a chapter book, no less.  I'm eager to see where it leads.

"The Tree house" -- a work in progress

In other book-related doings, I've updated a couple of recent book posts, including the follow-up zoo book post and the duck-themed one, with books that came to mind after I'd published the posts and photographs of the books themselves.   I'm always hesitant to assert that I've canvassed the books on a given topic for this very reason.

Whatever shall we do until summer Storytime begins?  Write our own stories, I suppose. I for one will try my hardest not to let our vast quantities of library materials go overdue, which is what usually happens when Storytime is on hiatus and I'm consequently off my routine -- in spite of the safeguards and reminders...

more zoo books

With the preschool field trip to the zoo a qualified success (and behind us), I realize one post about zoo-themed picture books is simply not enough. 

Sheena Knowles and Rod Clement have created two funny books about emus -- of all creatures -- that I think belong in any zoo-themed book list.  In Edward the Emu, the title bird thinks it would be more interesting to be any other animal in the zoo than an emu, so each night he sneaks out of his cage and climbs in with another animal.  Each successive morning everyone is surprised to find an emu in with the lions, seals, and snakes.  Imagine his surprise, however, when he learns that visitors to the zoo are looking for the interesting emu -- that's him!  When he gets back to his cage, he meets Edwina, the emu who replaced him when he went wanderin'.  Their life together is the subject of Edwina the Emu, who by now is the mother of ten emu eggs.  The illustrations in these two books crack me up (pardon the pun).  Who knew emus had such hilarious facial expressions?

Every so often the talented librarian who does the storytime at our local library branch will read The Baby Beebee Bird by Diane Redfield Massie.  I think it's the way she reads the story that endears it to me.  I was delighted to find a copy of the book at my parents' house on a recent visit.  I didn't remember it at all from my childhood, but I'm so happy to share it with my bambini now.  A wee little baby beebee bird comes to live at the zoo.  As darkness falls and the animals settle in for the night, their sleep is disturbed by the "bobby-beebeeing" of the baby beebee bird, who is nocturnal by nature (like some children I know, ahem).  The animals all try to shush the bird, who is only doing what comes naturally.  The next morning, the zookeeper is confounded by all the sluggish animals.  The baby beebee bird tucks into her nest to sleep for the day, but the other animals will have none of that.  They roar, squawk, and pester the bird to keep her awake all day.  The next evening when darkness falls, the zoo is blissfully quiet. 

Some zoos have an in-house aquarium (but not ours -- that's a separate field trip).   Therefore the recently released One Cool Friend  by Toni Buzzeo and illustrated by David Small (a favorite of mine) fits right in.  A proper young man named Elliot goes to the aquarium with his eccentric father and comes home with a penguin -- a living, breathing penguin.  Elliot is a thoughtful and generous host to his new friend, making the bird's accommodations (i.e. Elliot's bedroom) just to the penguin's liking and making all the family's frozen fish available to the guest for his consumption.  The dad is clueless to the fact that an actual penguin is living in the house (he thinks the penguin is a stuffed animal souvenir from the aquarium gift shop).  He is set straight in a funny and surprising way.

We've been working through many of David Small's books lately, with two of them making my ongoing "favorites" list: George Washington's Cows (which Small himself both wrote and illustrated) and The Huckabuck Family: and How They Raised Popcorn in Nebraska and Quit and Came Back (one of Carl Sandberg's Rootabaga Stories).  I digress, however, from my zoo theme by mentioning them.

Back on topic, for the wee-est zoo-goers in the group, there is Eric Carle's 1-2-3 To The Zoo and Deborah Guarino's Is Your Mama A Llama?

We also really liked Jon Agee's My Rhinoceros, about a boy who adopts a rhinoceros as a pet even though he's told that rhinoceroses are only good for popping balloons and poking holes in kites.  Turns out, those talents are actually useful in certain situations.

Now I feel a little better about my canvassing of the zoo-themed books scene (not that I've even scratched the surface).  At least I've given a more complete picture of the books we will reach for should anyone suggest going to the zoo again anytime soon.

thick as thieves

The 19-month-old younger lass has no qualms about expressing her thoughts and feelings on any subject.  Her feelings are not easily misunderstood on most matters.  She is -- usually -- very fond of her sister.  Brothers, too. 

With her sister the three-year-old elder lass, she seems to be forging a close bond.  When I made ready to go pick up the lads from school last week and take the younger lass with me while the elder lass stayed at home to bake cupcakes with my sister as a belated birthday gift project, the younger lass would have none of it.  Through her tears and protestations I asked her if she wanted to stay at home with her "sissy pie" and auntie.  "Yes!!!" she emphatically answered.  She wriggled out of my arms and ran to her sister, throwing her arms around the elder lass and holding on for dear life.

This morning at Storytime, the girls were called up by name to select instruments to play.  The younger lass went first and snagged the two coveted lollipop drums -- one for herself and the other for her sister, who had not yet been called to come forward.  Then she confidently returned to the box to retrieve the mallets for both drums.  Later I noticed she had traded with another child her drum for his tone block, but the elder lass gratefully retained ownership of the one her baby sister had nabbed for her.

These girlies dote on each other so sweetly -- and scream at each other in fits of rage over books (usually) just as often. 

The lads likewise dote especially on the younger lass.  Now that the elder lass is a little older, she takes some ribbing from the brothers that the toddler doesn't (yet).  There is almost always an argument over who gets to sit by the younger lass at mealtime.  The brothers love to snuggle their baby sis as she sleeps if they happen to get up before she does.  The elder lad loves to take her for rides on his big rig and his bouncy ball, which she likewise loves as judged by her shrieks of delight.  The younger lad is usually happy to share whatever he's eating with her.  He's generous like that. 

Of course, if she gets in the middle of their elaborate truck set-ups, all bets are off.

I pray that the bond these siblings have will continue to deepen and that the consideration they show each other continues to increase as they mature, and I look forward to the day that -- God willing -- they can work things out without shrieking at each other.

in her own little world

"Can everyone see the pictures?"

Two-year-old missy holds up her book.   When she's finished, she says "I home from storytime! I ride the bus. I set my backpack here for tomorrow."

She is ready to snuggle up with me for an early bedtime, so I ask her if I can lay her sleeping baby sister (the one she's been calling "my best friend") in the little rocker currently occupied by the backpack.

"Of course you can," she graciously allowed.

by popular request

Storytime is a highlight of our week.  When we don't make it, the two-year-old lass is not pleased.  She has gone so far as to conduct her own, "reading" aloud from the book in her hands and asking "can everyone see the pictures?"

Between impromptu storytimes and time spent in the rocking chair paging through books either on her own or on either my lap or my beloved's, the lass has developed a short list of library books that she asks me to request repeatedly, including

• Stand Tall, Molly Lou Melon by Patty Lovell, illustrated by David Catrow.  The diminutive title character might be vertically challenged, but thanks to the encouraging words of her equally-diminutive grandmother and plenty of chutzpah, this sweet little girl deflects the taunts of one Ronald Durkin and wins the admiration of all she encounters.
• Sugar Would Not Eat It (reviewed here).  Along with Molly Lou Melon,
• the Toot & Puddle books as well as Holly Hobbie's Fanny and Fanny And Annabelle, about a plucky young lady who sews and fashions her own doll when her mother flat out refuses to buy her a Connie doll, who Mama says is "just too... much".  I think I might find myself in a similar position someday, and I would *love* to create homemade dolls with my lasses instead. 

The lass also carts around three ballerina-themed books from my sister in a toddler-sized owl backpack (along with sundry other "necessities").  At virtually any time, one may be assured of a willing storyteller in a pint-sized package.  Does it get much better?

fishin' for a good book?

Since we go to storytime on Mondays, I had hoped to post a book review yesterday.  That didn't work out because instead I was trying to figure out how to broil our dinner.

Anyhow...

The books at yesterday's storytime were about fish.  One of them has become an instant favorite here.  I've lost track of how many times we've read it in the past 24 hours.  Normally I am not one to assign voices to dialogue when I read aloud, but I make an exception for The Pout-Pout Fish by Deborah Diesen.  Dan Hanna's colorful illustrations bring the aquatic characters to life as they try to cajole, admonish, and tease the fish with the fat lip to get rid of his mopey expression (which he thinks he's stuck with).  Their respective voices just spring from the rhyming text.  I can't help but go with the flow. 

Trying to contain one's excitement is challenging at best for adults, but sometimes next to impossible for children.  At least that's the case for the little boy who brings home a fish he names Otto in A Fish Out of Water by Helen Palmer (illustrated by P.D. Eastman of Are You My Mother? notoriety).  The pet shop owner gives the boy very specific instructions as to the care and feeding of the fish -- "only a little, or something might happen.  You never know what."  By the end of the story, the boy knows...

For a wordless picture book to capture the imagination, check out Caldecott Award-winning Flotsam by David Weisner, the story of a boy who finds an underwater camera on the shore one lazy afternoon at the beach. 

story time returns! and some new books by favorite authors

Story time at our library resumed today!  How we do look forward to story time largely because of the talented and dedicated children's librarian who presents it.  Sometimes we're the only ones there, which is a real shame considering its excellent and engaging (i.e. fun) presentation.

As we were getting ready to go this morning, the younger lad said "I hope she brings the instruments.  I want to play the star".  It took me some silent eyebrows-furrowed pondering to figure out he meant a triangle.   I told him I didn't know if she'd bring the instruments, but that she just might.  She did, and he got to play his "star."

(He *does* know it's called a triangle, not a star -- I think.)

The lass and her brother shared a carpet square as they listened intently to the stories -- all about bears -- and played their instruments.  At dinner time the lad proudly told his daddy about playing the "star" (see caveat above), and the lass chimed in with "shaker!", which was her favorite among the instruments she played.

In honor of story time's return, here are a couple of new books by authors I've noted before:

The boy in Caldecott Medalist Chris Raschka's new Little Black Crow has some questions for a bird he spies circling in the sky ranging from the here and now of where the bird goes to the more far-flung inquiries into the crow's life experiences (which the boy assumes might parallel his own).  Raschka's watercolors in this book are more subdued than those in his illustrations of Norton Juster's The Hello, Goodbye Window (which I love for the feelings it evokes of the bond we have with our parents and grandparents), but they are just as beautiful and emotive of the introspective wonderings of this curious boy.

Having hit upon a new at least semi-healthy chocolate cookie recipe for snack time in the elder lad's Kindergarten classroom last week, I find Amy Krouse Rosenthal's latest book on the sweet subject particularly timely.  One Smart Cookie: Bite-Size Life Lessons for the School Year and Beyond (illustrated, like the others in this series, by Jane Dyer and her daughter Brooke) is the latest in a series of vocabulary and life skill lessons presented through the lens of creating and sharing cookies among friends.  Internalizing words including "organized," "prompt," "empathy," "integrity," and "prompt" and their meanings never tasted so good.

Story time is a family tradition, since the time my beloved and I were children ourselves.  We are very fortunate to have such an excellent story time right here in our midst. It's a great way to start our week, and it's been the avenue to developing friendships with not only the librarian herself but also some of our neighbors. 

Here's hoping we have our instrumental nomenclature straightened out by next week's story time...

glory days

Owing to our ... shall we say *eclectic* taste in music, we have a queue ranging from Johannes Brahms to Dan Zanes, Justin Roberts, The Steve Miller Band to Bela Fleck.  One of the lads' all time most favorite songs is Glory Days by Bruce Springsteen.  The "concerts" the lads give singing this song and playing their "kitars" (translation: guitars) are the stuff of my fondest memories.

I have long tried to infuse our days with music, but as I have disclosed before, I am *not* a music teacher. I'm more of a practitioner.  This morning we took in a fantastic musical program presented at a local library.  It was just what I had been hoping to find for the bambini: quality musicianship made fun, age-appropriate, and accessible.  

We might be described as "heavy library users".   My library card is often nearly maxed out with children's books (and when it is, I use my beloved's, though I'm thinking about setting a rule for myself that I can't check out more books than I can reasonably fit in one bag on my shoulder with my lass in the ring sling). We frequent programs the library system offers such as today's music class and weekly storytimes.  We read together throughout the day, especially at siesta time after lunch and at bedtime.   Seeking out books to read to and with my bambini has become an ongoing quest that I relish.

One gem presently checked out on my card is Amy Schwartz's A Glorious Day.  It traces a day in the lives of four families with young children living in a small apartment building in an urban setting.  I like it because it's a realistic portrayal of the doings and antics of small children, from their selective eating habits to their natural curiosity compelling them to do such things as putting peas in their orange juice or stuffing sticks down a storm drain (it's this latter thing that has captured the fancy of our four-year-old).  Seeing the children engage in these things gives us ample opportunity to discuss with our bambini what's a good idea and what's not, and to reinforce our own house rules.   It's a way for our bambini to compare and contrast their own daily experiences with those of other children (imaginary though they may be).  The interaction between one boy and his mother who spend most of the morning playing trains surely resonates with most parents who have invested their time similarly, as will many of the moments captured in simple drawings and unassuming text.

Other Amy Schwartz books we've liked include Bea and Mr. Jones, The Boys' Team, and The Purple Coat.  

Back in the Bambini Ride, we were jammin' to The Boss as we drove to husband's parents' house later this afternoon.  My four-year-old elder lad asked me what "glory days" meant.  "The best days," I answered.

"Today is a glory day," he said.  "And tomorrow."

Music to my ears.