The ipod Touch has been found. It was wedged between two cushions in the rocking chair in my daughter’s room. This is where we read to her before nap and at bedtime, and it must have fallen out of my pocket when I put her down yesterday afternoon. I was paying poor attention to such matters, being, as I was, dumbfounded and benumbed by the book she has recently become obsessed with. It is one in a series about an animal — of indeterminate genus — called Arthur. Many of you will know him. I know him, far, far better than I ever hoped to. And at the same time, not well enough at all. Arthur looks like this:
Agh! You tell me what the hell kind of animal that is. A squirrel? A mole? A bear? Theories in my household abound. I know, we could Google it and get a definitive answer, but no one wants to dignify the situation with that much attention.
Anyway, the stories in these Arthur books are bad enough — insipid, shallow, semi-moralistic tales that usually find their climax at a pizza party — but looking at his unidentifiable mug, page after page, while fielding constant questions from your two-year-old about what kind of animal he is, is enough to make anyone lose their ipod. Or their mind.
Jess, I have a policy, don’t introduce any book that will pain you, there are plenty of beautiful books out there. Yes, it makes the library difficult. But enjoy the control you have while you have it.
Now that should get you going….