Listening to Stink

My children have found audiobooks. More specifically, they love Stink and the Incredible Super-Galactic Jawbreaker. It's written by Megan McDonald, who wrote the Judy Moody series, and read by Nancy Cartwright, well known as the voice of Bart Simpson.

Stink (a precocious second grade boy) speaks entirely in hyperbole, as indicated by the title. I don't know the whole story of the book because my children have banned me from the room while they listen, so sacred is the audiobook experience, but it seems to be about a giant jawbreaker that Stink buys and eats and then he gets all upset because it didn't actually break his jaw. This is a great section of the story because his mean big sister lectures him on sayings and how they don't have literal meaning, and then within a scene or two he's turned it around on her and is lecturing her

on the exact same thing. (This prompted some pointed questions from my 6-year-old son, who demanded to know how a person could get to the second grade and not know that having your jaw broken by food is impossible and painful. Funny, because the G-man didn't know this, either, until it was explained to him.) Then Stink writes a letter to the jawbreaker company in complaint and they send him free jawbreakers. Wow. Then he goes on a letter writing tear and gets tons of free stuff and then he offends his best friend. Cue the epiphany, only it's not quite as sour a medicine as that. It's clever clear through, with lots of funny language. 

We've already moved on to Stink and the World's Worst Super-

Stinky Sneakers, in which Stink goes to a museum of bad smells, all of which he can correctly identify, because of his super stink-detecting nose. And he decides to enter a monster stink contest for the world's smelliest shoes. The G-man is all over that one. He loves all things smelly. 

Stuart Little

The G-man stays home from school today because it's good Friday. We'll go out to lunch together, I'm sure, to his favorite spaghetti place. He likes the chocolate mousse cake for dessert, which he can eat--big as it is--in about three bites. And he likes to crack himself up about the name. He says he's eating a moose, and then laughs at his own joke. Every time.

Then I hope we'll read together. He will lobby for trips to the playground, if it's not snowing, and for light saber fights. But I love cuddling and reading.

Yesterday, I introduced the kids to Stuart Little, by E.B. White. They really liked it, and didn't balk at the big words, of which there are several.

As a character, Stuart is quite a fussy little guy, and so is the family. The dialog seems stuck in another century, but the stories themselves have real heart. I especially like the one where he goes sailing on a model yacht in Central Park. I've done a radio story on model yachting and he gets it just right, probably because he'd seen it. Back when this book was written, model yachting was a huge cultural phenomenon. Funny thing is that Garret liked the story, or at least listened very hard to it, but then only wanted to hear the one chapter. Then he wanted tickling, racing, sword fights, action. Sammie, who I'm sure didn't understand some of it, wanted to hear the whole book. 

Shades of Pink

Bringing new books home from the library is always a minor thrill, more so when they are books for the kids. Our library sorts new books onto a separate shelf, even in the kid section, so I can find brand new books for them each week.

The best recent find was Steal Back the Mona Lisa! by Meghan McCarthy. Both kids adored it and asked endless questions about the little boy detective who has to steal the Mona Lisa back from the crooked crooks and get it back to the Louvre. Sammie memorized it and slept with it. I could stand outside the door after bedtime and hear the cellophane on the book crinkling as she turned the pages. She would clutch it in her sleep.

Then last week we tried out Pink by Nan Gregory. The story is about a little girl who loves a certain shade of pink that all the popular (and rich) girls at school wear. She obsesses over pink, but her family is too poor to buy her new pink things. Then she finds a pink doll and wants that, but it is very expensive, so she works and does errands for neighbors and saves her money. The kids grew slack over this part. We all thought we knew where we were headed with this. But no. Then the mother suggests a special pink picnic with pink tea and pink like sandwiches and pink confections and they look for pink in nature. The father talks about wanting special lights for the truck he drives, but he can't afford them. All nice, but we're waiting here. And then the girl suggests going by the store to see the doll she's saving for. And they do, and here my heart leapt a little, because when they get there a rich girl from school is buying the doll. She whisks it away and it's gone. Here's a twist, and the kids are interested again, looking hard at the book. The girl is heartbroken and when she gets home her dad is sitting on the stoop and he plays his harmonica and she dances out her frustration. Afterward, she says to her dad that she's sorry he can't afford lights for his truck. And he has the greatest line in kid lit. He says, Don't be sorry. Wanting makes good music.

Wow. The end. The kids looked confused. Garret asked, She doesn't get the doll? I shook my head. He blinked and asked again, She didn't get the doll? I said, No. Sammie turned back through the last few pages looking for the real ending. Garret said, But she wanted the doll. She saved. Here I was able to pull my spine straight and lower my voice into full Sanctimommy mode. You don't get everything you want, I said. It felt great, but I knew myself to be a liar. They do get everything they want. We buy them everything they want, everything in every shade. Why do we do that?

THE EXERCISE: Make a list of old favorite children's books. What happens in these stories? What are the themes?