the monster at the end of this book

by jon stone.
and lovable, furry, old Grover.  Naturally.

We own two copies of this book.  You know, in case we're set upon by mad book thieves in the middle of the night or something.
You need to be prepared.

We've read it so much my four year reads it to me now.  Which is somewhat hilarious.

Poor Grover is terrified of the title of his own book.  He is scared of monsters.  He doesn't want you to turn the page.

If you have a four year old monkey, he will expound a ton of fake energy and flexing of his finger muscles to turn the pages for you.

Even a brick wall (or nails, or rope) can stop your ferocious little reader at this point.

The pages must be turned.

Poor Grover.

this is a must for little monsters everywhere.

Buy two copies.

wynken, blynken, and nod

by eugene field, illustrated by helen page.

I can recite this sweet little poem for you if you like.
No?
Okay, then, just get this perfectly illustrated storybook.

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod sail off in a wooden shoe if you didn't know.

Aren't they cherubic?

The pages are crinkled and worn from years and years of reading.  My son liked this page best.  He used to look up at the night sky and say to me,
'Look, Mom, the old moon laughed and sang a song!'

Isn't the wind pretty?  She makes white hair look pretty fashionable.

a very young dancer

by Jill Krementz.
My daughter just began ballet and I've had this book since I was a bunheaded whippersnapper myself.  It's frayed and torn around the edges and I hadn't peeked into it for about 20 years, until last week.  It was as if I had never closed the cover.

I love the seventies style clothes and hair.

The photos are great.  It's the story of a young dancer named Stephanie, who attends George Balanchine's School of American Ballet.

She gets to mingle with some amazing ballerinas.

There was a series of A Very Young Etc...but I had a one track mind as a child...I was only interested in dancing.

And horses.

Oh, and dogs.

And writing.

And archaeology.

Was there A Very Young Archaeologist?

P.S.  This sells for $189.00 on amazon right now, so I'm holding on tightly to my dust jacket covered copy.

I, Crocodile

I, Crocodile...by Fred Marcellino.  Somewhat of a creative genius.

Crocodile lives in the sewer, where he is quite happy and enjoys his three meals a day, plus snacks.

He is proud of his rich crocodile heritage.

Until Napoleon shows up.  'You know, that French guy who thought he owned the world?'

Incidentally, this is most of what my kids know about Napoleon.

Croc has some great moves and entertains the tourists after Napoleon captures him.
Until they get bored and decide to make him into crocodile pie (all the rage in Cairo).

He escapes.

But he's hungry.

What's a starving crocodile to do?

in the night kitchen

In The Night Kitchen by Maurice Sendak.

Being good ol' Maurice (ha!  Beauty and the Beast! ahem. Sorry.  I digressed into Disney for a minute) it is very similar in style to Where the Wild Things Are.  A boy goes to bed and has a strange adventure, only Mickey's makes Max's look tame and domesticated.

Oh look.  Some of my pictures did a head stand.  How odd.  Well, frankly it'd be much easier for me if you'd just turn your head ever so slightly than it would be to make me actually take these off now and start over.  Believe me.

So, anyway, Mickey falls through some kind of space and time continuum and runs into some fat and happy bakers who end up baking him into cake.

Mostly Moose goes for this book cuz there's a lot of gratuitous nudity.  And anytime there's nekkedness involved, a small manchild is gonna be there.

I love the red nosed bakers.

He escaped a run in with a loaf of bread.
Whew.

Then he falls in some milk.  And naturally his clothes fall off again.  Cuz that's what happens fourteen times per day when you are a small manchild.

Don't think about a boy being in milk that will later be used to bake something.  We all know what little boys do in the bath water that involves the golden arches and making a homemade jacuzzi.

Eventually, Mickey gets out of that strange dream land, shakes off his bread crumbs and hollers COCK*A*DOODLEDOO!  We don't know why.  Again, boys.


It's a classic.  Read to your poppets and muppets and small menchild.  You'll be glad you did.

socks for supper

Here's a gem that I've had since I was little, and is now Gianni's favorite bedtime story:

Socks For Supper, by Jack Kent.

Published 1978, which incidentally was an excellent year both for the written word and for short, fluffy, brunettes named Melyssa.

It still has my handwritten name in the front cover.

It's about a poor turnip farmer and his wife.  They only eat turnips because they're so poor.  But one day they decide to trade a pair of socks for some milk and cheese from their neighbor who has a cow.  I love the cheese in this picture.  So round and plump, and it totally makes me want some Gouda.

So, they become quite addicted to cheese and milk, but they don't have any more socks to trade.  So his wife unravels part of his sweater to knit some more.  This goes on until he doesn't have any sweater left.

I adore his little round belly and his need for a man-sseire.

Poor farmer. Traipsing through snow and blizzards half nekked, in his quest for a little Gorgonzola.  A bit of Cheddar.  A taste of bleu.  A true cheese lover would do no less.  They must have cheese!

I can relate.

In an ironic twist of fate, the cow farmer's wife had been UNRAVELING the socks in order to knit a sweater for HER husband!

I know.  Didn't exactly see that plot thicken, didja?

But the sweater doesn't fit the svelte cow farmer.

So, she gives it to the old man.  Because she had noticed, he didn't have one.

And of course, it fits perfectly.

The end.

I love this book.

Books make me happy.

Also, I want cheese.