“Again!”

“Last time, then bed.”

“ ‘kay. AGAIN!”

There’s not much as cute (or as potentially eye-gouging) as a young toddler or child wanting their favourite picture book read to them. Again. For the bazillionth time. Some days I’d look forward to the fine hair and round heads against my neck as I read the bedtime book, the snuggling and giggles; some days I’d be anticipating reading bedtime stories because it would be so much closer to my cherubs being asleep. Regardless of the day, though, or weather or mood, there were my boys’ favourite books.

I’d dance with a pig in a shiny green wig,

But I wouldn’t say

“BOO!” to a goose.

Books which became so ingrained that some nights or very early mornings I could let my eyes drift shut and quote them word perfect, complete with page turn (often provided by my fascinated 2-, 3- then somehow 4-year old.)

I’d ride on a ‘roo to Kalamazoo,

But I wouldn’t say,

“BOO!” to a goose.

I’d bought some books while still pregnant with both sons, and books were and still are part of every Easter, Christmas and birthday gifting. Even now, I buy children’s books, despite my sixteen and eleven year olds saying “But we’re too big for picture books!” I buy them regardless, drink in the artwork, suck down the tumble of graphics and fonts, and before the week’s out I see my eldest’s long bones carefully folded around the open pages, hear my youngest yell out from his room at bedtime “Mum? MUM! This book is AWESOME! Did you see the horse’s FACE?” We all have a soft, feathered room in our hearts for picture books.

I’d dive from a mountain right into a fountain

But I wouldn’t say,

“BOO!” to a goose.

Way back in 2000, a missionary serving in my ward spent several dinners under attack from the wobbly pile of favourite books my son Patrick would pile by his plate. One day I received a parcel in the mail, postmarked USA. It was a VHS tape. The missionary had asked his Mum (Mom!) to tape “a couple of episodes of Reading Rainbow for Patrick” – she recorded six hours’ worth. Patrick (and I) were captivated; by the presentation, the places LeVar would be showing us, but mostly – always – the books. We both have Reading Rainbow ‘liked’ on Facebook, all these years later.

I’d eat all the butter from here to Calcutta

But I wouldn’t say,

“BOO!” to a goose.

I remember my favourite Little Golden Books from my dusty childhood (The Poky Little Puppy, There’s a Monster at the End of This Book), and a watercolour book about one-eyed people in my first year of school. I’m still amazed at the paper sculpture collages that make “Boo to a Goose” such a wonder to look at, even a teenager/eon later. The passionately loved and adored pages are worn thin at the edges, the spine has no straight sections (it doesn’t even lie flat) – there are teeth marks too. It is one of the most beautiful books in my home, holding years of laughter, late night fevers and small, willing heads curled into my shoulder murmuring and yelling and laughing… “AGAIN!”

What are some of your favourite picture books? Which books do the very young people in your life love and adore? Which children’s book do you know off by heart, eyes closed? Can you recommend some beautifully illustrated or captivating young children’s books?

**Note – I just saw on Amazon that “Boo to a Goose” is available second-hand for one cent. That is an absolute steal! I recommend you buy at least two copies: one for the little lovelies in your life, and the second to give away to their favourite friend.**


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