I make my living supporting authors. I don’t, as a rule, like to bust them. But I cannot let this one slide. For the holidays, my almost-three-year-old daughter received a beautiful hardcover book from one of her aunts. It was a lovely gesture and the illustrations are both enchanting and edgy (which, after reading a thousand little kid books, I do appreciate). I always applaud and encourage books as gifts. But I will return this book and exchange it for something different. Why? It counters my position as a parent. I don’t understand why authors feel the need to buy into existing counter-productive paradigms instead of rising above them.
The book in question is David Shannon’s Alice the Fairy. It’s a bestseller, so clearly I am in a minority here. And I will loudly say that the tale is cute, and what little girl doesn’t envision herself as a fairy princess? We were engrossed, my daughter and I, until we got to a page spread displaying a plate of broccoli and Alice with her tongue sticking out. Here are the words I was supposed to then read to my child:
“A fairy’s life is filled with danger. Broccoli is often poisoned by the wicked Duchess and should never be eaten.”
“Never” is underlined. And apparently, I, the mother, am said wicked Duchess — for insisting on vegetables.
My daughter loves broccoli. Don’t overcook it, serve with some ranch dressing, and call them “little trees” and you have a good shot of getting your kid to eat them, too. Even my niece, who notoriously avoids weird-to-her foods, will eat broccoli with “dippy”.
And then the facing page: “Fairies also hate baths.” Says who!? My kid LOVES taking a bath.
These two pages are totally unnecessary to the tale, and as a parent reading it, puts me in an awkward position. How can I serve my daughter vegetables at dinner and then read her this book two hours later? And why on earth would I want to suggest to my kid that if she wants to be a fairy (which of course she does, fervently), she should decide to hate baths. Why are these pages even necessary? Is Mr. Shannon so unimaginative that he needs to use trite messages like this? It is so unfortunate because, as stated, the story other than this is okay, and the illustrations are truly lovely.
Return Alice the Fairy (and Too Many Toys, this year’s Shannon addition, also subversive to successful parenting efforts) and get Amy Krouse Rosenthal’s Little Pea. The title character has to eat his dinner of candy in order to have dessert of spinach. Rosenthal’s humor is clear even to little tykes. And I am not a hypocrite for reading it out loud.
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Why? Why? Why do authors do stuff like that?
My kids LOVE broccoli (to the point my parents thought I was raising aliens because they ASK for broccoli and peas and cauliflower) and I have the water bill to PROVE how much they love baths.
Why would a “children’s author” make parenting more difficult?
Grrr.
One of my favorite books to read as a wee gal was about Cookie Monster. Full of overeating sweets and such. Mmmmm cookies.
But I totally won’t promote that book for my neices/nephews/friend’s babies or my own if I ever have one.
Why not read the offending passage with a preamble to your child that indicates that the story takes a position that is clearly silly?
“We love broccoli!”
This gives the child the power to disagree with the book…any book…and still enjoy reading. You empower your child to find both sides: rights and wrongs. To gain through discernment.
Lanny, you’re absolutely correct. That’s how we deal with the everyday stuff that contradicts what Disney is preaching or one of her book characters is saying.
Lanny, Kira, I agree with you two! But for a three-year-old, is that concept too abstract?
R’s a smart cookie. I have a feeling she can deal with the ambiguity that her likes/dislikes are not (or don’t have to be) mirrored by others, even in stories. Ours loves broccoli, too, and we have a book “Hattie’s Hair Cut” that talks about hating broccoli; hasn’t stopped her from still loving it.
Indeed and true true, but the point I argue, “Why would a children’s author do this?” stands. Why? How does it help the author to make a parent’s job harder? Can’t he see the hypocrisy?
Sigh. Give me Karma Wilson or Laurie Keller any day.
little kids brains are so ready for anything so a book that teaches what the parent doesn’t want is not the right book for that family. your daughter is lucky to have you. some families aren’t as clued in to these little things that add up.
Seriously? I am baffled and saddened by all of your comments.
If I were to omit every book with a view or belief different than my own, I would be left with nothing. As an educator, I strongly believe that children need to recognize and respect others’ points of view. If you feel so strongly about the broccoli and bath pages, why not enter into a discussion with your daughter regarding the differences in opinion between hers and Alice’s, rather than completely discarding the book? It’s neither wrong nor right to dislike baths and broccoli, and children need to know that their choice isn’t always the only correct one.
And you find Too Many Toys to be subversive to parenting? I am searching my mind trying to imagine what might be offensive to you. The book reminds us of the constant need for more, more, mine, mine and rebukes over-consumerism. In the end, as with Alice the Fairy, Too Many Toys promotes imagination and creativity.
Furthermore, I doubt David Shannon is trying to sabotage your parenting. If you were to read more about him, you would know that many of his other books (i.e., No, David) deal with the troubles that he, as a child, presented his parents and teachers. I have taught second grade for many years and children LOVE Shannon’s books because they can easily relate to the characters; they may not always agree exactly with the character, but they do understand the feeling.
Unfortunately, I think the message you are teaching your child is much stronger and more close-minded than “never eat broccoli” and “hate baths.” Please rethink your position.