Christmas at Grace's (with update)*

   

Grace put the finishing touches on her gingerbread house, we took a picture,

and then Grace presented the house to her daughter...


*edited to add a link to for the continuation!

Solstice

I always like to celebrate the Solstice, and this year I did it with a children's party. The plan was to meet at the beach early enough to be there when the sun went down

and then go back to my house for snacks. The children and I had discussed these: pizza, we all thought, would be perfect -- round, the right colors. So I made three different kinds of homemade pizza. I am trying really hard not to always go overboard on everything, and in general, be less anxious -- to, as Alvina advised recently to "assume the best and let it go." I had a lot of work to do, too, so I had promised myself to stop at home-made pizza and sparkling lemonade for the kids, Prosecco for the adults -- but the morning of the party, found myself in my car, about to scour the countryside for preserved lemons. I didn't go, though: I remembered my promise to myself in time. Then I thought -- well, maybe I can just make some scones and get some lemon curd....but I said no to that one, too.

I worried about not having done enough until one of the mothers came with homemade cornbread (from yellow local stoneground curd) and lemon curd!

We met at the beach in time to watch the sun set -- the plan was to each come with one idea for saying goodbye to the dark and one for welcoming the light. Fiona (9) made sun necklaces for us -- BEAUTIFUL Rothko-like things (orange, yellow, red) she'd painted on a kind of salt clay she makes. We all put them around our necks.

Everyone dressed in either sun (orange, yellow, red, pink) or dark (black) colors.

Jake (5) had been looking forward most to his idea: throwing rocks into the ocean. We all did this with great gusto. I had written all the thing I wanted to get rid of on one side of a piece of paper, starting with anxiety, and what I wanted to replace them with on the other. The idea was to do a puja: tip the paper in half, twist one half tightly and throw it into the ocean to burn..... but we couldn't get it to stay lit. So I just said the pairs out loud and then threw the dark, unburnt ones into the ocean. I kept the others (that's part of the puja).

Then we tried to light the candles I'd brought in little glasses--but they wouldn't stay lit, either.

So we did the next thing: ran up and down the beach taking turns carrying the Sun Banner (in reality, a sailing flag for a small island nation).



Then we went back to my house, where Fiona and Ethan had made one chain for the dark and one for the light. The PLAN was to rip down the dark one, which was hanging up in the kitchen downstairs (to a Celtic tune "Gone Away" about bad spirits being gone), and then march upstairs all carrying candles to another song.

But, we didn't -- I was a little disappointed, but glad that the kids all liked the idea of the candle-lighting contest -- I had put candles all over the downstairs and each child got a taper to light them with. But,this too got modified -- when I mentioned the word "contest" one child's whole face fell, so I said,
"Would it be more fun to just light the candles and not keep track of who lights the most?"
He looked relieved and said yes. They all did that, with parents helping sometimes -- one of the kids was only three.

We were also planning to do sun salutations, led by one of the mothers who used to teach yoga, but not everyone wanted to do that, either. I remembered my mantra and just let it go. Instead, we sang a song Fiona knew and after that I just went with the flow and served the food-- and (although I admit at first I was a little disappointed, and worried that the kids would be bored without things to do) they seemed happy with the yellow and orange snacks and candlelight (I don't know how many candles, more than 40 I think). It was fun, just talking and eating and drinking the Prosecco (so pretty in the candlelight!). Some of the kids went upstairs and jumped on the couch (which I had covered with yellow and white quilts just in case this happened); one of the fathers went with them-- and I relaxed. Going with the flow was easier than I thought!

Then after some people left we did some yoga after all, by candlelight, and ate the homemade truffles one mother had brought:
"Dark and light snacks!" she said -- she was the one who also brought the cornbread....the first hint at the party that sometimes "enough" is a lot less than you think. This is the song we didn't sing marching upstairs holding our candles:

"May the longtime sun shine on you
All love surround you
And the pure light within you
Guide your way on!"

(And if that sounds too new agey for words to some people -- it's actually a really old Celtic blessing, which *I* first heard when the Incredible Stringband did it in the sixties or seventies.)

Corn baths etc.

Last weekend some of the Blue Rose Girls and our friend Alissa visited Anna in her beautiful quiet cozy country cottage. As usual, conversation was the main activity -- Tilda and Juniper (Alissa's daughter) stayed close to us, eagerly joining in with smiles and babble. Neither can talk yet, but they seemed to enjoy being part of the group.

We talked about our writing (so inspiring! and so tempting to just stay in front of the fire doing that the whole time) but one afternoon we did manage to leave the house to attend the Ashfield Fall Festival, where local children make, set up, and run the games. When we arrived, Alissa's boys had already won a small bag of marbles doing things like climbing rope ladders and ringing the bell at the top. They and the other children did this with just as much excitement as the children Grace described grabbing for the brass ring at the Tuileries in Paris or the ones I described dancing at the ceilidh in the Hebrides.

The one that seemed to delight them the most was the corn bath -- tubs filled with raw corn kernels. They rolled and dug and played and only got out when the person running it said -- several times "Come on, guys, time to go -- we have to clean up." Maybe the real proof of how much fun they had was that they helped her do it.



Since I got back I have been comparing this country pretty unfavorably to Scotland (though in fairness to me, at these kinds of festivals where I live, people mostly just buy things, eat, and sit listening to loud music). So it was really great to be reminded that there are communities right here in this country where people take just as active a part in their own amusement --and with just as much enthusiasm and energy. Maybe there are more of these kinds of communities here, and children are taking more delight in simple pleasures, than the media would have us think.

After all, as Grace pointed out, big companies aren't making money with things like corn baths -- maybe THAT'S why we don't see them in the media. But that's no reason not to put them in our books, even if some people do find such things old-fashioned. For others (maybe more than we, and some publishers, realize?), it's reality....and as much fun to read about, too:maybe more fun to read about than, say, Angry Birds. It depends how it's done, of course, like everything else in writing!

Cupcakes for Japan

Last weekend in New York my sister and I saw this (she's a much better photographer than I am, and if she sends me HER pictures, they will replace this!).

In case you can't read the sign:


I loved this! Sometimes I think that children now don't have as much fun as they did when I was a child, with all their activities and pressures -- but as one mother said, those prepare them for life as it is now. It's true, too, that some kids thrive on scheduled lives.

But this kind of thing -- and (to site just one of many examples) how NICE I've seen kids be to kids with disabilities -- makes me think that many children now are just plain NICER than I was at their age. It would never have occurred to me or any of my friends to do anything for victims of an earthquake! It gives me hope.

It also got me thinking about charity and promotion -- what would YOU think of our doing some on this blog? My mixed thoughts: it IS nice to do something to help Japan or for that matter any group or cause that needs help. But is it better to do it without linking it -- however indirectly -- to products (even if those products are something else I believe in -books?) and the promotion of authors/artists? We as a group might raise more money than any of us could donate or raise individually. So I have come down on the side of doing something for the charity on the blog even though part of me does think it's in bad taste: what does good taste matter if we raise even $5 more for someone who needs it. BUt what do you think? Should we just keep it separate from our blog (what we have always decided to do up to now)? Would it offend or bore or annoy any of you?

Lastly, thank you, Jill and Julie, for your great advice about writing on the go! I'm following it already and it's working.

Research

Usually the boys I babysit for aren't too interested in my books and writing. But when the topic was TRUCKS, all that changed. The four-year old lugged down a volume the size of an old encyclopedia (all devoted to trucks) and began eagerly turning the pages and explaining the various vehicles. The ten-year old supplied the names KIDS use, and some of the sound effects.

Soon I had quite a long list of truck names and sounds, and both boys helped me pick the ones that would be the most popular with kids....but the ten-year old wasn't sure we had made the right choices.

"I know! To find out what kids really like, let's look at Mitchell's trucks."

It was quite a collection, and encompassed most of the house, and, with his brother's Leggo creations and planes, the entire dining room table.








There were far too many to include (these pictures do not do justice to the range of the collection, but you get the idea), so we asked him to show us his favorites.



By the end of the afternoon, I was confident that I'd made the right choices, and liked the names of the trucks and Mitchell's onomatopoetic sound effects, too. At home, I made my final selection and then, while trying to get the sounds right, found this amazing Web site: the sounds of every truck on our list and many more. Here, for your listening pleasure, is a plain bulldozer. There are many more exotic ones.

On Monday, or maybe as I write this, my agent is sending the ms. out to editors -- but whether anyone buys it or not, I had a lot of fun researching it and writing it.

And that, this year, for me (I am NOT presuming to advise anyone else), is the point. If *I* don't have fun doing this, I might as well "be an accountant or something."

The quote is from Anna, in one of her posts on this blog. I forget what the main topic was, but she, while acknowledging some of the disadvantages of being an artist (and let's face it, there are MANY), concluded: "At least I don't have to dress up in a suit and be an accountant or something."

Not that there's anything wrong with being an accountant, I'm very grateful to mine. He makes probably about 20 times what I do -- but, at least when I'm doing research and writing books like this one, I do enjoy what I do. For a long time I thought of my writing as a way to make money, and when I thought of it that way, I put myself under the kind of pressure that wasn't productive, and felt, was, poor all the time, too. If you can count on your writing or artwork to make money: GREAT. Lucky you! I know, I know, it's not just luck, it's talent and hard work as well. If you've made it, well done! Bravo!

I'm just saying that for me, thinking of it this way works better. If I genuinely enjoy what I write, and can make enough money from my freelance work and babysitting to live on (and as our loyal readers know, now I do), I really can't lose.

He finally fell in love with a book!

Some of you may remember my friend Adam, who when he was 7 (he is now 10) had no trouble understanding why writers make so little money once I explained the concept of royalties. He nodded sagely and said,
"Most books are really boring."

More recently, he complained that his teacher last year "made" them read a book a month and how glad he was that school ended "before we had to finish the last one." But now he has read a book that he loved. He's a slow reader, and it took him a YEAR, but he finished it.

So last Sunday, when we went for a hike here,

we mainly talked about books. He described the plot of HIS book in great detail, then explained how 80% of the books published are "terrible," 10% "bad," and the rest, "really good."

He asked me to tell him about the best and worst books I'd ever read--I did, and was surprised that he'd heard of most of the ones I loved:

"Someone in my class read that and thought it was really good," he'd say, or,
"A girl in my class loved that, but I didn't think I'd find it interesting."

He hadn't heard of TREASURE ISLAND and when I told him the beginning, thought it sounded really good, but urged me to tell him the whole story anyway since "I'll never read it." He has just finished the only book he's ever really liked, and wants to read the second in the series. Since the first took him a year, he's not optimistic about starting any other books any time soon. He thought GRIMBLE sounded really, really funny -- he laughed aloud when I quoted it - but didn't want to read that, either: he's saving his reading time for the book after


DORMIA. And yes, this IS the child who said only a little while ago that he liked realistic fiction. He said he liked this because he could picture everything so clearly-- he added that he doesn't like books with pictures because THEY do the imagining for you. He likes really long books because he "hates to choose" and it's good to have something that has "500 solitary pages" --not sure what he meant by "solitary"--he's at an age to use long words to impress).

Lastly, I don't think this proves anything about novels vs. picture books, or realistic fiction vs. fantasy, or kids now or anything else, other than that what makes someone love a book is as completely mysterious and unpredictable as any kind of falling in love. YOU NEVER KNOW, even when you know the person and the book pretty well. I find that encouraging.

Fat

It's been raining here all week and (partly because of that, partly because family troubles have left me exhausted), I've been letting the kids watch some TV-- normally, I have a No Screen Time policy. Even when allowed to watch TV, some of the kids preferred

and jumping on the mini-trampoline I just bought.

I hate that slack-jawed, glazed, drugged look small children get when they watch TV. Normally, when it rains, we make things or play cards or dress-up
or cook or if there are enough kids over, play hide and seek or sardines or make things with Sculpy or play boardgames .....(another time I will post about these activities: back to the point).

But this week, we watched TV. And maybe because of Meghan's post, maybe because I'm dieting (and you know what THAT makes you think about!), I noticed what the kids on the shows and in the ads were eating. With the exception of the shakes Ricky serves on Hannah Montanna, it was always fast food -- and one episode of I Carly was about her brother making "spaghetti tacos." Another show's plot revolved around kids pretending to be on a ping pong team so they could spend the club money going out to a fancy restaurant -- and what food was dwelt on and lovingly photographed? The cake they had for dessert--one kid was so stuffed he couldn't eat it, so a friend held his mouth open and massaged his jaws so he would chew. The show also showed them grunting with pleasure while they stuffed themselves.

Is it just this week? Was I super-aware of it because of Meghan's post and my diet? Or is this happening all the time? Maybe the BEST way to help kids lose weight would be to show the cool teenagers eating vegetables.

Some of the kids I babysit eat a lot of junk food, none are overweight--but they lead pretty idyllic lives. Some live on a street with other kids their age; they all play outside together after school, every day. Others spend most of the day playing outside on estates like this:
Statistically, the poorer you are, the fatter you are. Obesity correlates more strongly with income than any other factor -- education, geography, intelligence: none matter as much when it comes to being overweight as income. But I bet if all children lived in places as beautiful as this

where it's SAFE to play outside all afternoon, as kids here do, we wouldn't have an obesity epidemic--even if the kids still ate junk food. (Could this be where the income/weight correlation really comes from: where you live? Even in cities, the rich neighborhoods have great playgrounds, the poor ones don't.) Maybe this is simple-minded. But if I were to somehow make a lot of money, I'd some of it to give more children good places to play, and to educate parents about the importance of letting them do that..... and yes, maybe nutrition too. Ack! I hope this isn't preachy. And as I write it, I'm thinking that maybe I could and should do something along those lines NOW. Ideas for what very welcome!

For the love of mice

Last night a four-year old I babysit for exclaimed, angrily and dramatically:
"For the love of mice!"'
Then he said he wanted to whisper something in my ear:
"For the love of Christ!" (His mother swears sometimes, and his father really disapproves.) He added, "But we're not supposed to say that."
He looked up, worried:
"Is it all right to say 'for the love of mice'?"

This reminded me of how senseless many adult things are to kids - and also of how logical children are, in their own way. Their logic is pretty unhampered by knowing the reasoning behind things, so it's sometimes hard to see. I always feel like I've solved a mystery when I spot it.

This is a better example. Another child I babysit for always wants to walk on the double yellow lines in the middle of the street, and gets really mad when I won't let him. The other day, the penny dropped: I had just watched him cross a street at the crosswalk, stepping only on the white-striped lines (not the black spaces between them). The next street had no sidewalk, and once again, he wanted to walk on the double yellow lines in the middle of the road.
"But why not on THOSE lines?" he said and that's when I got it. (And explained what they were for. He hasn't asked to walk on them since.)

I love child logic -- when I can spot it -- and it doesn't often appear in books. Lewis Carroll uses it-- not one of my favorites NOW, but as a child I did like Alice. I liked the way she reasoned things out and thought she was really smart. The idea that her reasoning was funny never entered my mind. I actually don't find it funny now, either, but I know it's supposed to be.

Maybe that's why children's logic isn't written about more: children would approve of a character who displayed child logic, but not find her funny. Adults might -- but they might also find it boring or silly. What *I'd* like to do is write a mystery that used child logic -- their logic could solve the case. Adult readers might find the kids' thinking funny at first but then (as in all the best mysteries) everything would tie together and make sense at the end -- including the kids' thinking.

Libby

Sex vs. Race for the Under Four Set

Jake is the only child I babysit for who loves to read, and at his request, we go to the library every day. We both pull books off the shelves, then he decides if they're worth examining further. We put all the books that pass the first test on the table, and read the first few pages--then they go either into the Yes pile or the No pile.

He loved Ling and Ting, even though it's about people he normally refuses to read about: GIRLS. He got all the humor -- I could tell by his pleased, amused smile at the end of each little story. And I know he loved the book because before we'd even left the library he'd had me read it all twice.

He didn't comment on the characters being Asian, and my guess is that he didn't notice, and I KNOW it wasn't something that had anything to do with whether or not he wanted to read the book. He's three, almost four; maybe when he gets older, this will change; but maybe -- and books like Ling and TIng may have something to do with how it all comes out, for him and others? -- it won't.

"It could have happened"

For Adam's birthday, he has a party and all that but he and I always have our own celebration, too, and we always do the same thing. We go to the beach -- always, East Beach on Watch Hill (picture to come). The waves are huge and we swim. Then, we have dinner -- always, at the same restaurant. Dinner always ends with icecream, and then (it is his birthday after all) we walk to The Candy Shack, a store that sells nothing but, as Adam put it when he was six, "pure candy."

Adam begins Middle School at the end of August, and is looking forward to "more freedom." At his current school, "the teachers watch us every second."
"What if you have to go to the bathroom?"
"Someone stands in the hallway and watches us."

He also complained about reading. They "make us" read, and "don't let us" choose the books -- instead, they assign them. He said he was glad that they hadn't had to finish the book that was assigned at the end of May (because school ended). I asked him what he had read this year, and he said,
"I can't remember. I hated all of it. I only remember books I like."
Pressed, he said that there was a lot of fantasy. He "hates" fantasy.

I asked if he had ever read a book he enjoyed, and he said he was reading one now, a "non-fiction" book called ELEVEN. It's about a boy who lives with his grandfather and (while he's looking for presents) finds a newspaper article that someone with his name was kidnapped when he was three. So the boy thinks maybe the person he THINKS is his grandfather kidnapped him, and (helped by a girl in his class) decides to find out.
"This really happened?"
"WEll -- no, but it could have happened."

I said something like "That's fiction -- it's called realistic fiction," and he said that was the kind of book he liked.

I'm not claiming this is a trend or anything -- Adam is unusual in many ways; but lots of times I think all kids now want to read is YA or fantasy, and it's enormously reassuring to me that there are children who like books about things that could have happened -- and that those events are so real to them that they count as non-fiction.

And at the risk of ruining the punchline: if any teachers are reading this, is is true that teachers assign only ONE book? And if it is, couldn't there be a list, with books from different genres on it?

Fun

This is doll's food: the sandwiches are broken up chips, the salad is cabbage with the threadlike tops from a bulb of fennel, and the cake is a slice of banana with toothpaste squirted on for frosting. The four-year old brother thought of that one; his sister was I think a little distressed when he straightened out the doll's candy canes for candles.

Maybe you can see it better here:



The refreshments were in preparation for the ball - Fiona (one of the children I babysit) had plotted it all out before I arrived. It was not going to be much fun for Cissette (blond below) since her daughter Alice (lying on floor above) was going to eat all the food and do other naughty things. Before the ball, Alice was well-behaved, because she wanted a new dress. We made Cissette's outfit first: Fiona designed it and I spent most of the afternoon sewing it while the dolls talked:

Fiona loved it and I have to admit, I was rather proud of it, too. It even has two buttons on the back.

There is something about these afternoons that's inspiring. Fiona and Ethan are both really creative, and just hearing what they say and getting in touch with that side of myself is really fun. And I think (do you agree?) that having ANY kind of fun is inspiring. It puts you in a playful state of mind, and when I've really had fun, I'm willing to work/write. When ALL I do is work/write, I don't want to do it. But sometimes the inspiration is more specific: when I told them an incident from my new novel, Fiona smiled and said,
"That sounds like something Alice would do."

Testosterone?

The almost-three year old I babysit for used to be a cautious, gentle child. Lately he's taken to games that always involve a bad guy (usually a leaf) getting stomped on by Batman and Catwoman (two dolls that feature the duo at around 8). The other morning, when he was the most boisterous I'd ever seen him, I said, surprised,
"What's gotten into you?"
"ENERGY to play and hit!" he shouted.

I have to admit that there is a part of me that loves this kind of energy (am I a Bad Influence?), though I don't allow hitting. I bet most children's book authors tap into it -- who knows, maybe that's why we write for the age groups we do.

Jake's new favorite book is DON'T LET THE PIGEON DRIVE THE BUS! -- for those who haven't read this, at the beginning of the book the bus-driver asks the young reader to do him a favor: "Don't let the pigeon drive the bus." When he's gone, the pigeon asks (at first)



wheedles, pleads, bargains--and, eventually, has a total temper tantrum, represented by screaming capital letters, flying feathers, and popping eyes. Reviews say that children love to shout NO! YOU CAN'T DRIVE THE BUS! to each request. Jake's eyes light up at the question. At first, when the pigeon asks, Jake is tempted, but doubtful:
"Maybe."
When the pigeon really starts pleading, he says,
"Okay."
And finally -- more and more confidently as the book goes on:
"Yes, you can drive the bus."

We've read most of the sequels now, too, and Jake enjoys quoting all of them, even when he doesn't quite understand the words:
"I've got dreams, you know."
"For Pete's sake!" (he loves that expression)
"I'M NOT SLEEPY!" (this is from DON'T LET THE PIGEON STAY UP LATE -- and Jake at nap time always insists that he's not tired until a few seconds before he falls asleep, just like the pigeon.)

Jake's mother says he's going through a "testosterone surge." She'd read about them; her friends had warned her they would come. But she never believed that her own gentle child who didn't like anything rough and sang the song in FREE TO BE YOU AND ME -- especially the line "It's okay to cry" so often that his father finally said,
"Yes, but it's not required!" and cried when other people were hurt would turn into this high-energy, strong-willed, rock-throwing (not at people, only into the water at the beach -- over and over -- heaving huge boulders) BOY.

I bet girls go through this too -- I'm pretty sure that at almost-three I also would have loved the pigeon and wanted him to drive the bus. But now, although I know that the pigeon absolutely should not be driving the bus, and when I am in charge I don't let Jake do what he shouldn't, there is a part of me that loves the energy that wants to try, so brilliantly captured by this book.

"Lead the way, Catwoman!"

This summer, I've been babysitting three days a week for someone almost three. Being a babysitter for someone this young is a different kind of relationship.

It's oddly intimate -- I don't think I've spent this much concentrated time with anyone in years (maybe ever? Eight hours a day, intensely engaged in conversation and play? When with him, I'm not doing anything else -- not trying to do errands, or write, or anything: my whole attention is on him). What makes it odder is that Jake is so young and so articulate -- and thinks so differently. I don't really know how he thinks, actually: what he understands and what he doesn't is surprising and mysterious, as is what catches his interest. I do know that I can't talk to someone this young as I do to someone my own age or even eight: there are whole huge concepts that don't exist; time, for example. "The weekend" and "tomorrow" are just words he uses without really getting.

When we read picture books, odd details capture his attention and I am quite sure that (intelligent as he is) he doesn't really connect the events in the story -- they're all isolated incidents or images, and he delights in (and repeats, verbatim) some phrases. He LOVES A Chair for My Mother. And what was the first thing he commented on, the first time we read it? The fire trucks. Does he know that a fire burned down their house? I don't think so -- but he loves the story. And every time we read it, he points out the firetrucks.

Objects, especially how things work, connect (a favorite word of his), fit together all fascinate him. So do:

*his toys and pretend play of all kinds ("Who will YOU be?" is a favorite phrase)
* food
*his own body
*rules ("Is THIS the way we do it?" or "Some rude, naughty person threw that trash on the street!" -- this condemnation is repeated whenever we see any)
* words (is this unusual, or not?).

He loves words: their sounds, the ring of a dramatic or emotionally charged phrase, bringing phrases or concepts from books we've read into his play ("Just like Humpty Dumpty!" he said excitedly when something fell). He's also a great mimic, and I can tell who he's been with on the days I haven't been there by the phrases that crop up in his play.

One day, bending over and cupping his hands, he offered me a pie (a pretend pie):
"I made it myself," he said proudly -- JUST like the kind of grandmother who bakes: gestures, intonation, proud expression, all perfect.

Other times, I'm a bit taken aback to hear my own voice. Yesterday we were in the library and as we were leaving,
he said, quite loudly:
"Lead the way, Catwoman!"
(We often play Batman and Catwoman, though in his world, the two are friends. I have used that phrase, though with Batman at the end, often.)

One effect of all this is that I'm writing picture books. I appreciate them in a way I never have before -- or maybe, in a way I don't remember. When I write for eight and nine year-olds, I just plug into myself at that age; this is harder, in a way. But being around Jake has shown me the appeal of an orderly world, with a logic and structure that's quite different from a story for someone older.....though since they will have to read it over and over, I think it's fine to put in some things that will appeal to parents, too. Now that I have read many books until *I* know them by heart, I get that one, too.

(Though thank you, Alyssa, for reminding me of the point when we talked about my ms.!)

In case anyone is interested, these are the books he asks for over and over:
MY FIRST MOTHER GOOSE, Iona Opie and Rosemary Wells.
A Chair for My Mother
Chikka Chikka Boom Boom!
Madeline
and, more recently, not sure if this will last, one of those books about Charlie and Lola: I am Too Absolutely Small to Go to School (we read the one about not eating things in the library and he chose the school one to take home)

Picture books, the two year old's view

If there was a time when I loved picture books, I was so young that I don't remember it -- so it's been fascinating to see their effect on the two and a half-year-old I babysit for now.

I would have thought that if ever a book needed no explanation or analysis, that book was GOOD NIGHT MOON. Maybe that just proves that I don't really get picture books. When we read it, he commented on "Good-night, nobody." He thought it meant that there was no one there, so I turned the pages back to show him all the people in the room, and he was more puzzled.

I said I thought the boy/rabbit was making a joke, and he laughed in that fake way some kids do when they know YOU think it's funny, but they don't really get it. I tried again to explain.

Later, when he woke up from his nap, he smiled at me in a way that showed he was VERY pleased with himself and said,
"Good-night, nobody."
He said it a few more times, I laughed, and he again commented that there had been no one there. So I explained again -- and he wanted to get the book and read it again. He also said,
"Let's talk about it." (This MUST be a phrase his mother uses!)

So we read it again: I could see that he was really impatient to get to that page. When we did, I again turned back the pages to show all the people who were in the room. I read the page itself, then went on (pointing to all the people).

"He was just making a little joke," he said -- but I don't know if he really knew what that meant; that was the exact phrase I'd used, after all. But he was REALLY TRYING to understand (one thing I like a lot about him) and maybe did. If he didn't, I can be sure he'll bring it up again.

The point of this post, though, is what reading with him showed me about GOOD NIGHT MOON. The last child I read it with delighted in finding the little mouse; Jake didn't even notice him (he's more of a word person, like me). He loved the sounds of the words, especially the rhymes....the only picture he commented on was one that showed the moon and the balloon. He liked the fact that they were both circles.

When I (or anyone) tries to talk about a book this simple, and this brilliant, I always sound like an idiot.....because the book's beauty is its simplicity; it says so much in so few words (and readers respond on so many levels and in so many ways). But I'm going to try and talk about this anyway, because I want to understand it more consciously myself.

In case you don't remember, the page on which the little rabbit says "good-night, nobody" is blank -- all the other pages show the objects being addressed or named or the room. That blankness and that joke not only add a little mystery (and it WAS a mystery to Jake) and humor (to an older child). It makes the permanence of the other objects and the order and repetition more noticeable -- and more reassuring (though Jakes's question made me wonder how clear it was to him that it was the same room in all the pictures).

There's an age, a specific point in development, at which babies grasp the permanence of objects -- it's early, before one, I think. Especially when you're as close to the concept being new as a two year old is, the idea that a comb and a brush and a bowl of mush remain what they are -- that they're still going to be the same thing, even if you go away or go to sleep or look away from them, IS a reassuring one. It's reassuring that the world is such a stable, orderly place.

I think it's almost impossible to read that book without feeling calm at the end - not just because of what I've mentioned here, but lots of other things there isn't room for....and the beauty of the book and its simplicity is that no matter how much I said, I'd still be missing things. There is so much there -- the soothing green, the way the room gets darker.....good-night, readers!

Valentine's Party

This is from an old diary....I think it makes sense without any explanations, but maybe not. Let me know! That's one of my reasons for posting: how much explanation things need is a big question, always, for me when I write.

February 14
Tonight the kids and I had a Valentine’s Party. We spent all afternoon — or rather, they did — making cards and decorations. I baked a chocolate cake with chocolate icing, and, at their request, decorated it with a “V” (for Valentine’s Day). They said I couldn’t come into the upstairs living-room, where we were to eat on a card table they’d dragged up from downstairs, until they said they were ready. When I went in, they were all wearing their best clothes: the boys had on grey pants, ties, and navy-blue blazers; Rebecca was wearing her new long dress.
Then we went to my closet to choose what I should put on. They all vetoed my first choice — Steven said:
“No, you wore that every day last summer and I’m sick of it.”
Finally Rebecca picked a long white evening dress. When I tried it on, everyone approved:
“Twirl around again, Libby.”
Nathaniel ran downstairs to get me an apron (his idea) so I could finish cooking. Rebecca said,
“Do you feel shy in your dress?”
I nodded, and she said,
“I did too at first but now I don’t.”
They finished “getting set up” while I finished cooking; I heard Benjamin saying,
“Oh, I’m so excited!”
Finally, they were ready and so was the dinner. When I brought it in, all the lights were turned out, candles lit, a fire made; STAR WARS (DA da, dadada DA da) played, over and over. The table had been lovingly set, with little cards and name tags and small piles of candy (I’d given each of them 8 cents to buy it with) by each place. Balloons covered the floor (Benjamin and Steven’s idea — that you shouldn’t be able to take one step without kicking a balloon).
I suggested that we have a toast. Solemnly, everyone filled their glasses and I said:
“Happy Valentine’s Day!”
Everyone clinked glasses all together, carefully, in the middle of the table, very seriously. Then they looked at each other, gave delighted smiles, and said:
“Let’s do it again!”
This time, everyone said, at the same time,
“HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!”
Their demeanor and conversation were an odd mixture of the formal (imitative of their parents’ Sunday dinners?) and childlike. Clearly, this was a special occasion to them, a time for Party Behavior. Everyone ate very politely. I told them I’d made up a song, which I would sing when I brought in the cake. This, too, was a ceremony: they wanted to be told when it was coming so they could be “ready.” When I said I was coming, they all blew whistle pops simultaneously and shrilly. Then Steven shushed them and I sang the song again.
They liked the song. They all wanted a piece of the “V” on their cake. They commented very politely that the cake was good, only the icing (bittersweet chocolate) “a little too sour.” After the cake, we opened the cards we’d made — Nathaniel had written riddles on all of his, with the answer concealed by a small heart (taped on) that you lifted up.
Then we took the Dixie cups by each plate and threw their contents — confetti they had made by cutting colored paper into tiny pieces — into the air.
I felt like a privileged spy from the adult world, witnessing their fantasy of what a party is. They’d prepared it all so lovingly — the little piles of cards and decorations and confetti (it must have taken them a long time to cut up all that paper) by each plate, the balloons, all the candles, the fire, the music, the very best clothes. It was really one of the nicest parties I’ve ever been to.

(from me now) Happy Valentine's Day to all, especially Benjamin, Nathaniel, Steven and Becca!

The Third Day of Christmas

1.
This wasn't really the first day of Christmas, but it's the day it started to feel like Christmas. On the day before Christmas Eve, Adam and I walked into town to choose a Christmas ornament for his best friend, a tradition started by their parents when they were babies. Then we had hot chocolate at the icecream shop over the drawbridge, and he asked for "Abraham stories."

I was a little puzzled so he prompted me: Lincoln's sons and the naughty things they did. I told some. Then we just chatted and I asked if he'd ever been to the Christmas pageant with live sheep a church here has. He didn't know what a Christmas pageant was.
"They act out Mary and Joseph in the stable -- the shepherds come (with their sheep), and The Three Kings --"
"I don't know who any of these people are," Adam said.
So I started to tell THAT.
"Is this a true story?"
"Well, lots of people believe it. Millions, in fact."
"I don't."

Of course, I don't think religion should be taught in the schools; but I think kids are missing something if they don't ever even hear these stories. My parents, who were not religious, didn't tell them, either -- but I learned them somehow, maybe from reading, maybe at my English boarding school; and having them in my head (even though I've never been able to believe in them either) has given me something that it's hard to put into words. Could schools here teach them AS stories -- not just the star and Jesus, but all the instruments in the world playing when the Buddha was born and other stories like that, one from each major religion or continent, maybe?

2.
The day of Christmas was with my mother and one of my sisters; one of the things we did was look at old photographs. Here is my mother as a little girl:


and this one of her in college:


It was from a newspaper, and the caption said: "Co-ed Sally Rumble finds it easy to sell homecoming ribbons to..." My sister and I were both quite amazed at this view of our mother!

3.
And now it's the third day of Christmas, and I plan to celebrate by writing -- or rather, rewriting: finishing a novel so that on Epiphany it can go out into the world for real. Writing it, finishing it, does feel like a celebration because for the next ten days I can write without interruptions -- and when it is done, I can start something new.

I plan to celebrate each day of Christmas, and part of that celebration will be to light candles and look at my decorations -- I bought the garland, but picked the berries myself.

There are 3 children's-book-related ornaments: a snowflake from Grace,

and the orange fish and little bell are from a store where Pamela Zagarenski is the main buyer. This is where Adam got HIS ornaments and he chose an orange fish like mine, only with more glitter.

Not what you'd expect from me or this child at Christmas

WARNING! EXPLICIT OFFENSIVE LANGUAGE!

A few days ago, David's parents awoke to find this word soaped on the downstairs bathroom mirror, in David's handwriting. FUCK, there it was. I hope that doesn't offend the sensibilities of our readers.

David's parents were appalled; and shocked, too. As his mother said to me, "It seemed so out of character." David is a child who likes to do things by the rules.

His father said,
"What were you thinking? You knew we'd see it."

David couldn't really answer this question. After much debate between the parents, David's father determined the punishment. David would have to write a three-page paper explaining:
a) why he had done it
b) why it was a bad thing to do
c) how sorry he was
d) why he would never do that -- or anything like it -- again.

David is eight. When he read the completed paper, David's father said:
"That's a keeper."

I haven't seen this paper -- I was over there tonight, but David's mother didn't want to look for it - she had hidden it, and said that if David knew they were saving it, he'd rip it up. The gist of a) was that "he just felt like" doing it. Do you think that's all there is to it? I kind of think there may be more to it than that (but maybe not, I really don't know).....the other night we were at a party -- David and I were probably about equally bored with the other guests and spent most of the time playing with each other. Towards the end of the evening, an adult said, in that fake high voice lots of adults use when they talk to children, that she hoped David had a merry christmas.

David looked up at her, smiling innocently, and said, in the same sort of fake cheery voice,
"I hope you don't."

She didn't react in any way -- I don't think she heard him. As he has said to me more than once, "They (meaning adults) don't listen."

WEll, they listened to the message on the mirror.

Boys, Girls, & Suite Life

I've never been much of a TV watcher -- for me, even as a child, it was a social thing. For long chunks in my childhood, our TV was broken or we just didn't have one and even when we did, I usually watched only with other kids. Our conversation and fooling around was more fun than what we were watching. But now, I watch with Adam and lately, with Anya upstairs, too. She has bought a trainer for my bike, so we can bike inside together. It's really fun -- we ride, we talk, we watch TV. I think we were both somewhat embarrassed by our TV preferences; but after she confessed to hers (it's not for me to out others here!), I told her about Adam's favorite show -- which I also really enjoy.

At first, SUITE LIFE appalled me. In case you haven't seen it: ten-year old twins Zack and Cody live in a hotel owned by London Tilton. Zack and Cody (boys) have long blonde hair and hip clothes -- even their pajamas are cool. Zack is dumb, and always coming on to beautiful teenage/twenty-something girls with cheesy lines, winks, gestures ...this I still find baffling and kind of weird. Does anyone (especially, the kids watching) believe that there is a chance that one of these girls will actually accept Zack's invitations -- invitations to his bedroom once he's in bed (and believe me, he's not asking them to read him a story)? Or is it supposed to be yet another humorous sign of what an idiot Zack is? That's how Cody takes it: he rolls his eyes and makes comments.

Their mother does, too -- in the last episode I saw, Zack and Cody were at a party London was giving (in their LA pajamas and bathrobes) when their mother stormed in and made them go to bed. Zack (typically) invited one of the girls (a teenager--I've never seen a girl their age on the show) to come with him and, as she followed, the mother shoved her back and said angrily:
"Not you!"

Adam watches it all intently. On THIS AMERICAN LIFE, a commentator said HIS son watches as though he was taking notes. I don't know what Adam thinks -- his comments while we watch TV are ususally limited to explaining the characters and situations and backstory to me. I can't tell from his expression, either; but he doesn't laugh at these parts. He does laugh a lot at London ("the only thing she's good at it buying stuff") and at the scenes in which Zack and Cody succeed in tricking their mother.

Adam doesn't even LIKE girls (as you might guess from the dialog with Morgan) has firmly told his father that it's not okay to have a girlfriend until you're twelve (it used to be ten, but now that he's eight himself, he's upped the age limit). If his father tries to talk to him about girls, or even comments on women's looks, Adam says, firmly,
"Daddy! Not until I'm twelve."
I've never seen a girl Zack and Cody's age on the show -- but maybe I've just missed those episodes? I'm not attached enough to the show to pay for the Disney channel!

I'd really like to know what other adults think of Zack and girls! Anya (24) also thinks it's weird and that I should talk to Adam about it, in case he thinks this is how you're supposed to do it.
"I've never heard Misha [her brother whom Adam worships] talk to girls that way."

Real Meltdown (Real Children # 7)

This really happened. I wasn't there, and neither was the woman running the store the day I was there and took this photograph:
"But I heard about it," she said. Her tone implied that it had been quite a scene.

We'll never know the rest of the story -- did one of Savannah's parents make her write that apology? Did she do it on her own? What made her have the melt-down? How old was she? (And maybe some of you know the asnwer to this one: is it usual for children old enough to write letters to scream and cry in public?) But, maybe part of the fun of being a writer is that you don't need to know the answers; you just need to be interested enough to ask the questions.

Just for fun

Adam and I are writing a book together--one with a very silly plot, made up by me; and dialog and details from both of us: NOT something to publish, just something to write. It's an ongoing thing; and he's very excited by it, so excited that he's writing some of it by himself when I'm not there. As you probably know by now, I find Adam's observations about everything pretty interesting, including his response to my explanation of how royalties work. I didn't need to tell HIM most writers don't make much money:
"A lot of books are really boring."
The other night, he said:
"I think in kids' books, kids should make up what the people say."

His dialog is certainly very different from mine. EXAMPLE: The two main characters are Adam himself and his cousin Morgan (kind of a more sensible, less wild version of me as a kid -- I want Adam to be the star, her to be more the narrator). They're around the same age, their mothers are sisters (Adam's real mother, me grown-up -- only more serious and motherly), and the mothers are always saying how nice it is for the cousins -- who are both only children -- to have each other. Morgan and Adam, though, don't like each other. To them, the one good thing about the relationship is
"It's not every day."

Then, to save money, which their parents are obsessed with, Morgan and her mother have to move in with Adam and his parents. The story starts just after this decision and another decision: turn the back yard into a farm, use their boats for fishing, spend NO MONEY. The family will grow, catch, or pick their own food; make everything they need, etc....they won't buy anything.

The children are appalled -- no soccer uniforms, no candy, no video games?! The father says if they want money, they can earn it themselves. The mothers are so busy canning etc. (which they are not at all good at -- some sisterly fights and domestic catostrophes there, too) that they supervise the children far less than usual.

So Adam and Morgan are free to try out their money-making ideas, most of which (and the funniest ones -- I laughed so hard at one that tears came into my eyes) have been supplied by the real-life Adam. They argue about the ideas, then do some of them --with results that we (the real-life Adam and Libby) find hilarious.

But they still hate each other -- I want them to get to be better friends but Adam says no, "not until the last book" -- he has long been telling me to "write a series -- then you won't have to keep thinking of new topics." In the scenes I write by myself,which are all from Morgan's point of view, her feelings about Adam are shown indirectly in her treatment of Adam and, sometimes, directly -- but only in Morgan's thoughts and comments to her mother.

Adam tends to write lines like this:
"Hi, Adam. I hate you," Morgan said.
"Guess what? I hate you more," said Adam.

Other things change over the course of the book. For example, when they go to the Candy Shack that plays such a large part in their lives with the first money they've earned, Morgan sees her mother's favorite candy and buys it for her. Adam does the same for his mother. In real life, Adam is very generous and actually once bought ME a bag of candy when we went to this store (which is a pretty great place). But in the book, he grows into this kind of generosity, as does Morgan.

I'm not sure whether they will end up liking each other or not, but I do know that by the end, when the father gets offered a new job, no one will want him to take it because everyone is enjoying their new life so much. In real life, typically, Adam said:
"What's the job and how much money would he get?"

This is just for fun, though I can't help trying to make it better and think we may end up having two stories, as we do now: one (written by me and us together) about realistic ways the kids try to earn money -- showing the parents, too, and everyone's characters etc. The chapters the real Adam writes by himself --which tend to be very short, action-packed and highly UNrealistic -- could be stories-within-a-story. Diary of what he wished had happened? Story he's writing?

At RISD I remember hearing about a teacher who made everyone spend the whole class drawing something-- and then at the end of the class, he said:
"Now rip it up."
That always appalled me -- but I DO think there is something to be said for just making something without a money-making or goal-oriented purpose, and that's what this is. It's actually energized my "real" writing and reminded me of how light-hearted writing can be, something it's easy to lose sight of when you're expecting it to support you. But -- as I wrote last week -- getting a part-time job will also relieve that pressure.

PS About last week's post (the spy one): One of the BRGs emailed me saying she'd read it & thought it was a really fun post and why had I taken it down? I deleted it in a fit of thinking it was boring and bad -- which just goes to show that a) it's high time for me to stop taking writing so seriously ad b) I have to let something sit for awhile before I judge it! c) ALmost EVERYONE who writes is subject to these fits, which are really more moods than anything else. I have never in my life met a writer who didn't, at times, think that her writing totally sucked. But, encouraged by the BRGs, I have a new resolution: to write what I want -- including here in this blog -- and not be inhibited by what I imagine other people think, or even those black moods of mine. Easy to say, hard to do: but if *I* don't write what I want and enjoy doing it, why not just go back to a money-making job?