Put Up Your Dukes

In an apparent tribute to the days when knights jousted in contest for the favors of fair maidens, Scarlett’s new favorite thing is for us to “fight” over her. As soon as there are two big people who love her in close proximity, she plunks herself in the middle demanding that one person “hold my feet” and the other “hold my hands.” Then she gives the final direction: “Now say ‘mine’.” So, we grab hold of the proffered bits and begin an epic mock battle for Scarlett Supremacy. We pull back and forth, hollering out our claims to her, until someone finally “wins” and gets the baby for their own until the next round. And she squeals with maniacal laughter the whole time. Since kid reaction is usually pretty authentic, there must be some primal need we have to know that we’re worth fighting for. And since parents are the ones most heavily tasked with meeting the needs of their children, we spend much of our parenting time doing just that. We feed them and house them and clothe them, sure, but we also take care of their spirits, even when they’ve grown. I have one “baby” who’s older now than I was when I had her, but I still worry every day about her happiness. And I always will. In Sam McBratney’s Let’s Play In The Snow, a mama rabbit gives it her best to tell her baby bunny all the ways she loves him. He really likes that.

http://www.amazon.com/Lets-Play-Snow-Guess-Storybook/dp/0763641081

http://www.answers.com/topic/sam-mcbratney

Do Bee Good

Remember “Romper Room”? We watched it every day--which is saying something since my mom was rabidly anti-television. I was drawn to Romper Stompers, badgering my mom into making some with coffee cans and string. But the pivotal moment was always when the Magic Mirror came out. The picture is still sharp in my memory: all those lucky kids in the studio and exponentially more kids at home in an expectant semi-circle waiting to get “seen.” Miss Sally would hold that unique-in-all-the-world mirror up and it was magic because she could see all the children in the world. And then she would start calling some of them by name. “I see Billy, and Susie, and…” It seemed she would eventually see me. But she never did. Not once. I was an avid fan, wearing my Romper Stompers in the den to prove my loyalty. At first, I would even wave my arms, but when I got a little older I realized how childish that was. She just didn’t see me. The funny thing is, I seem to encounter a number of adults who felt similarly shunned, hearing only other names, not theirs. Who were all these kids that did get called then?! My husband can never claim he didn’t get recognized by name, though. In Ole Risom’s I am a Bunny, the main cottontail introduces himself as “Nicholas,” which is probably why Nick’s beloved aunt and uncle gave him the book for his first birthday. Some kids have all the luck.

http://www.amazon.com/Am-Bunny-Golden-Sturdy-Book/dp/0375827781

http://www.nytimes.com/2000/08/24/arts/ole-c-risom-80-publisher-of-children-s-books.html?pagewanted=1