Maps
Leading up to the holiday, the Book Elf’s stock of literature began to run low. He was browsing at Hicklebee’s and came across a large atlas-like tome simply titled Maps. Not wanting to be discovered, he clandestinely escaped. But when he came across the same book again the following day at Paper Source, he knew it was destiny… or a magical sign from the Boss.
Little did the Book Elf know that I am a lover of all maps. I still regret not having more time in the map room at the Venetian Doge’s Palace. And I did come up with a reason to buy a map at the Antique Map Shop on Pulteney Bridge in Bath. I believe there is zero coincidence that Google began with maps on their quest to conquer the world.
And so we are introduced to Maps by Aleksandra Mizielinska and Daniel Mizielinkski.
This seemed like an excellent choice for the Book Elf to make as Nate struggles with the concepts of time and location. Specifically we’ve been working on the differences between hotels versus houses… and everywhere versus Hawaii. In July when we went to Avila Beach, he kept asking me why we had so many houses. He was of the belief that every hotel we’ve ever visited is just another one of our many “homes.” *sigh* If only that were true…
While we were in Avila, I also remember going into the bathroom and finding him buck naked with his tiny tushy as he stood on tiptoe in front of the toilet. He casually looked at me over his shoulder and asked, “Is this Hawaii?”
Nate loves to look at the Maps book and show me where we live and where Granddad lives. And the location of Hawaii. Those are his three favorites, followed by the question, “Why I have to find Hawaii?”
I’ve been wondering that myself…
In a nutshell: Maps is a large format book illustrating 42 countries, the Arctic and Antarctica. An unremarkable title for a remarkable book. Someday when I intentionally have coffee table books, this will be one of them. It’s chockablock full of colorful illustrations on pleasantly thick, matte paper highlighting the many flora, fauna, food, sites, cities, and other cultural tidbits of each country. Readers can spend hours looking at the continents, each country’s points of interest, and flags. I haven’t found him yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised to find Waldo. This book is utterly splendid and a great way to incentivize your children into proving themselves worthy and capable of exotic overseas travel.
A little research uncovers that the Mizielinski are graphic designers, authors and illustrators from Warsaw, Poland. One should not expect the book to be entirely accurate or politically correct (one reviewer noted a noticeable lack of famous women depicted for the United States of America). Given the wealth of information and incredibly detailed drawings and facts, one must cut the authors some slack.
Families can talk about: Where do you live? Where have you been? Which countries do you want to visit? How old do you need to be before you can sit on your bottom in a chair and not touch every mirror in a hotel lobby on such visits? Which looks like the most exciting place to travel to? Are the animals and people actually in the water or do the artists have other reasons for drawing them in the oceans? Why are there only women in bikinis “relaxing on the beach”? $20 for the first person to find a man in his bathing suit sunbathing. Do you think people from Kansas want to be known for trailer homes and pigs?
Maps by Aleksandra Mizielinska and Daniel Mizielinkski
Will Food For Blog
For some reason the new year rolled around and I got a bee in my blog bonnet. The look of this blog is sooooo 2009. We all know first impressions are everything and as I’ve heard the girls in full make-up and 4-inch nails say on the soccer field, “You’ve gotta look good to play good.”
Clearly you don’t have to talk good…
And so, I’ve spent a number of hours doing research on WordPress and free themes and logging-into our website host’s website and after hours of live chats and trying to back-up my blog, my confidence began to fade and I remembered the Great Blogtastrophe of 2010. So then I started to rack my brain on what computer experts do I know?… I’ve really let this area of my network lapse. Unfortunately I no longer work hand-in-hand with systems engineers teaching me about DRAM and instructing me to type pipe grep.
And then it hit me, my cousin is known for his computer prowess. I think he was rumored to be a teenage hacker— and I say that with the utmost respect and awe. And so I’ve hatched a plan and am putting it out into the universe.
Bryan— I have an offer for you. If you will back-up my Bluehost hosted blog and upgrade it from WordPress 2.2 to WordPress 4.1 so I can use fancy free themes, I will make you a giant batch of mouthwarmers and deliver them to your door. You could probably do this in your sleep… and meanwhile you could be enjoying your own homemade batch of delicious mouthwarmers as early as February 1st.
Hopefully my loyal fan will pass on this message…
No Beans, No Sauce
Leading up to Christmas it rained. A lot. So Nate and I made cookies.
During these rainy afternoon projects, I came to the realization that mostly what remains of my grandmothers are our cherished memories and their recipes. Especially their cookie recipes. There is something so innately warm and comforting about eating cookies you’ve been eating your entire life. Sneaking into the kitchen and silently opening the tin. Stealthily digging through layers of waxed paper or furtively unwrapping individually packaged cookies. Losing count of how many you’ve eaten… and not really caring. Grandmothers never make you feel like you can eat too many.
Nate and I started with my paternal grandmother’s recipe: Me-momie’s White Raisin Cookies.
First he decided that he needed to taste each individual ingredient, before it went into the bowl.
Sugar: Nate, “Mmmm, good.”
Egg: Me, “You’re not tasting straight raw egg.”
Vanilla: Me, “It smells good, but usually doesn’t taste good.” Nate, “Mmmm, smells yummy. Oh… yuck.”
Baking Powder: Nate, “Super yuck!” Me, “I tried to warn you.”
And then Nate exclaims, “I want to pour in the beans. I pour in the beans!”
Not to worry… my grandmother’s cookies do not call for a cup of beans. I don’t like raisins one bit, but these are scrumdiddlyumptious (clearly we’re in the middle of reading the BFG). I also made my maternal grandmother Sweetie’s cookies which she made with raisins, but we make with apricot or sour cherry jam.
Nate declared as he handed me a half eaten cookie, “Here, I’m done. I don’t like the ones with the sauce.” Great. More for me.
All of this makes me think that I am definitely going to need a signature cookie recipe. One I can be remembered for. Looks like at least one of my grandmothers relied on her husband’s secretary for inspiration… luckily I have… Pinterest.
Me-Momie’s White Raisin Cookies
(No Beans)
(adapted and narrated by Grandma Suzy Purnell)
½ lb. butter (2 sticks)
1 c. granulated sugar
1 egg (at room temperature; place in warm water, if just from refrig. to warm it a little)
1 T. cream (a little less, if milk)
1 3/4 c. all-purpose flour
1 t. baking powder1 t. baking soda
1 t. vanilla
1 c. golden raisins (use a little flour to keep them from sticking together)
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Using an electric mixer, cream butter and sugar; add egg, cream, then vanilla; mix together. Add the dry ingredients, which have been sifted (or stirred if you don’t have a sifter) together. Add the golden raisins. Drop from spoon on cookie sheet. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes (watch them, they burn easily). Let cool on racks and pack in an air-tight container.
Makes about 5 doz. cookies. (These cookies were made at Christmas by Grandaddy Calvin’s secretary.)
Sweetie’s Filled Cookies
(No Sauce)
2 c. sugar
2 egg
1 c. sour cream
1 c. butter (2 sticks)
½ t. salt
5 c. flour
2 t. baking powder
1 t. baking soda
2 t. vanilla
Apricot jam and American Spoon Sour Cherry Spoon Fruit
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Using an electric mixer, cream sugar & butter; add egg; add sour cream, in which baking soda has been dissolved (stir together and let sit about 1 or 2 mins.). Mix the dry ingredients in a bowl, then add to creamed mixture; add vanilla. Cover & chill dough in refrigerator 8 hours or overnight. Roll dough on well-floured board; keep dusting the rolling pin after each stroke. Otherwise, it is a nightmare to roll these out! Cut with a round cutter (I use a glass, dipped in flour after each cut). Lift with a spatula and place the “bottom” on a cookie sheet. Add about ½ T. apricot preserves in the center, leaving a margin of at least ¼ inch. Cut another round and place the “top” over and lightly press together around the edges. Bake about 8 mins. until lightly brown.
Makes about 36 cookies. Eat within a few days or they become stale quickly. Wrap each cookie in Saran Wrap, then place in a Zip-loc bag or container. Can be frozen.
The Boys’ Doodle Book
My house is a wasteland of children’s art projects. Well, not children. Child. One child. A little lefty named Jacob who is well on his way to 10,000 hours of drawing expertise. Little piles of his work can be found in drawers and on tables; in folders and portfolios. I try to take pictures of his best work for posterity, but it’s almost impossible to keep up. Plus, some of them are just too funny to toss. Sometimes I ponder how much mommy guilt Picasso’s mother felt, years later, after sneaking mountains of pictures into the paper recycling bin?
Earlier this year we went through a bit of a power struggle with this artiste. And whenever he would get mad, he would go to his room and draw pictures of us and then draw big circles around them and lines through them— banning us from his psyche. It’s probably a productive way of dealing with anger and frustration, though it is not good for parents to giggle when said drawings of themselves are silently stuffed under doors to communicate said frustration… unless you want more hate mail.
The other night during story time, Jake kicked his legs and accidentally jammed my finger and it really hurt. Instead of an apology, I got a picture of myself with tears springing off my face and a big, red throbbing finger that was crossed-out with the word “no.” Underneath was a smiling picture of me with a happy face and a happy finger and the word “lles”— which sounds like yes when you sound it out in Spanish. How can I not save these in little piles all around my house?
And speaking of drawing, my last review was of a real dud of a moose book, but just when you think you’ve hit rock bottom, somehow the Book Elf skyrockets you to book bliss. And that’s exactly where we are with a book called The Boys’ Doodle Book by Andrew Pinder.
In a nutshell: The Boys’ Doodle Book is a heavy duty art book of creative and thought-provoking pictures to complete. The Book Elf likes to change it up now and then. It has sparse, simple text questions that a five-and-a-half-year-old can sound out. Mostly it’s filled with partial pictures and a prompt. Examples include things like: A boy looking over the side of his mattress and the caption: What’s under the bed? A strong looking man in his skivvies and his dog and the prompt: Design their superhero costumes. A page with three fierce lions running as a pack and the question: What are the lions hunting? Followed by a page with the lions looking back in fear and the question: What is hunting the lions? It’s full of pages with vikings and castles, pirates and aliens, pyramids, tunnels, caves and stampedes. It skews “boy,” but without being too stereotypical. One of the first pages Jake turned to had a frightened looking T-Rex and asked, “What scared him?” Jake’s answer: A skunk. Actually, a pack of skunks.
Why didn’t I think of that?
This book has kept him creatively occupied for hours in a calm, educational way, exhibiting model “we’re in public” behavior. Target audience is definitely the 5-7 demographic. The paper quality is great and the pictures are colorful and engaging with lots of white space. Nothing about this book impels one to color inside the lines. One reviewer on Amazon took hers to a copy shop and had them chop the binding off and make it spiral-bound so it lies completely flat. This might be worth it, though after a few days of use it seems to lay flat enough.
This past Saturday, we were invited to a last minute birthday party for Jake’s first best friend, Helen. In need of a quick present, I scoured the local specialty shop and Targét for The Girls’ Doodle Book or any of the books by this author, but came up short. I did find something close and we paired it with our favorite washable marker Pip-squeak carousel. Jackpot. I could hardly believe my eyes when after two-hours of trampolening, cheese pizza and frosting as thick as snow, six little girls made a circle on the floor and started coloring with the markers while Helen colored in her new doodle book. We also marveled that five out of the six were lefties… leaving us to wonder how Helen racked-up such a statistically significant number of left-handed friends. Several hours later, as we said our goodbyes, Helen was balancing the marker carousel on top of her book to take it upstairs and continue working. I’ve now found my go-to birthday present for 2015. Expect to see this reappear on next year’s No It All Gift Guide.
Families can talk about: Why do you like dragons and vikings so much? Are there enough pages where you can draw dragons? When the boy is looking over the side of his bed and says, “Oh crumbs!” is he referring to pie? Is that why you drew a monster eating a giant piece of pie? Is this like a regular coloring book or better? There’s a list of thirty seven other Doodle books by this publisher… how many hours of mommy quiet time does that equate to? Technically the pages rip out, but you don’t need to know that do you?
The Boys’ Doodle Book by Andrew Pinder
This Is a Moose
The Book Elf has found that no matter how many hours of research he does, how many “Best of” book lists he pours over, how many Amazon reviews he reads, truly outstanding books that make you want to read them again and again are rare indeed.
Some words of caution: Many of those organizations that like to foil stamp metallic awards like Olympic medals on the front of books do not have the same definition of “good” as your average bedtime reader. They have a major bias for beautifully illustrated books without words. Which I can appreciate as the art forms they are, but I do not want to spontaneously narrate works of art after a long day of work, feeding people, bathing people, dressing people and brushing said people’s teeth. Yes, the The Lion & the Mouse is gorgeous and no, I don’t want to think. Sometimes I just want to mindlessly read.
And those people on Amazon almost always like everything. Just about every book I look at has an average rating of 4.5 stars. Even super bad books like Peanuts: You Can Be Anything! which is one of the worst books I’ve read… ever. Proving that the American public’s taste in children’s literature can rarely be trusted.
And that is a long winded way of saying, sometimes the Book Elf picks a real lemon.
In a nutshell: This Is a Moose by Richard T. Morris is a story about a moose on the set of a documentary film. There are a number of “takes” with the black clackey thing, as the director tries to shoot his movie. But alas, the moose doesn’t want to be your average wild moose and instead wants to be an astronaut. For some reason his grandma comes along and she wants to be a lacrosse goalie. Some other things happen, there’s a doctor giraffe, and then the animals build a giant catapult and launch the moose into space in a lawn chair. At this point, we find out the director is a duck and he has a conniption Don’t-Let-the-Pigeon-Drive-the-Bus-style. He wants the animals to act like animals instead of like astronauts and goalies and doctors and movie production crew workers. He has some sort of epiphany, which took me two concerted re-readings to really get, and the entire crew launches itself into space in a canoe to film the moose on the moon as an astronaut.
Overall I had high hopes for this book and they fell to earth like a moose-shaped asteroid. Fortunately, the illustrations are well done. Unfortunately, there is a little drawing of a moose visibly heeding nature’s call, which then becomes the only page the two little potty-obsessed three and five-year-old kiddos at my house care about. The story requires a lot of explanation. The subtle message of this book is to dream big, or as Peanuts might say, “You Can Be Anything!” I wish I could get the Book Elf to take it back to the North Pole but unfortunately, the boys dig it. They even talked Nonna into buying it on her Kindle.
Families can talk about: What is a movie set? Is it called a clapperboard or a black clackey thing? What is it for? What is a microphone on a boom? What is a lacrosse goalie? What is a lawn-chair sling shot? Can you put a fish bowl on your head and fly to the moon in a canoe? What else am I going to have to try and explain before we can get through this book? Should the title be: This Is a Moose, or This Is a Dud?
This Is a Moose by Richard T. Morris
The Pajama Elf
The Book Elf was assessing the calendar countdown to Christmas and appraising his stock of well-researched kid lit and has identified a two night shortfall. He has decided to write a non-committal note regarding some unexpected fire drill from his boss and bring in The Pajama Elf as back-up.
The good news is, it looks like The Pajama Elf is available. The bad news is, it looks like she has her own book…
Stuck
Two weeks ago I buckled down and did my obligatory clothes management clean-up of the boys closet. It generally involves going through every drawer and putting things into piles such as: Basement for Nate, Devon, Salvation Army, Girls Clothes Nate Wore Home From School, and Rags. Given the weather has finally changed, I decided it was time to whittle it down to a more manageable number of items, moving the drawers from super stuck to marginally stuck.
It also occurred to me, several weeks ago, that it possibly has not rained, to this degree, in Nate’s lifetime. Except maybe that one torrential nap time downpour. Now there’s a sobering drought-tolerant thought.
And if you can believe, I packed-up Nate’s six “Black and Blue One Superman Shirts.” Last year at this time we were eyeball deep into this particular Superman shirt obsession. He wouldn’t wear his snow coat in Yosemite because it was covering-up his Superman shirt. I’m pretty sure that in August when we went to Portland, I only packed navy blue short-sleeved Superman shirts. And his one Azores bull shirt.
Somehow between August and now, he has dropped the Black and Blue One Superman Shirt obsessive compulsion like a hot potato. Wouldn’t be caught dead in one. For a few weeks he only wanted his bull shirt. Lately his favorite is his Transformer shirt which might possibly be a 2T. Overall, he’s shown a new level of variety and flexibility in the range of his wardrobe. There are far fewer episodic crying fits as he digs through the dirty clothes hamper and implores me to wash and dry his favorite shirt in less than three minutes.
Primarily he’ll only wear shirts with someone or something that flies, but I even got him into a character-free striped shirt with an orange pocket on Sunday. “I like orange. Orange is my favorite color.”
And being stuck in Nate’s wardrobe rut is my effortless segway into our next book: Stuck by Oliver Jeffers.
Now Mr. Jeffers is also the author and illustrator of one of Nate’s favorite books, How To Catch A Star. Every time we read that book, Nate has to ask, “Why he sitting like a cwab?” With a similar narrative style and artistic proclivity for footless boys, Stuck looked like just the thing for our almost four-year-old.
In a nutshell: Floyd’s kite gets stuck in a tree. He throws his shoe up to try and dislodge it, only to exacerbate his problem. He begins throwing household items into the tree and then households and then more and more crazy and absurd things until finally he has a tree full of firemen and whales. In the end, his kite falls out and he nonchalantly goes to bed with a nagging feeling that he’s forgetting something.
Overall it gets great giggles. The illustrations are engaging and it can be the jumping off point for all sorts of conversations.
Families can talk about: What would you do if your kite got stuck in a tree? How many ways can you brainstorm to get a kite out of a tree? When should he have stopped to rethink his approach? At what point do you think it’s unrealistic that Floyd could throw those things? What does unrealistic mean? What kind of steroids do you think Floyd might be taking? Is it a good idea to throw a whale? How will he breathe? How safe is it to throw a saw? What’s a unibrow? And the question we’ve all been dying to ask: How does Floyd wear shoes when he doesn’t have feet?
Stuck by Oliver Jeffers
Someone Special
Two weekends ago we went home for our cousin Covin’s birthday and to visit with the CV fam. On the Saturday morning car ride there, we start talking about our need for Christmas cookies, as long holiday car rides always require large stockpiles of our family-favorite sweets. As we brainstorm cookies, Jacob volunteers, “Eating Grandma’s cookies feels like getting a hug… even though no one’s hugging you.” Such a lovely sentiment… though it probably won’t get him all the sandies he can eat.
On Sunday morning, Covin’s school is having a pancake breakfast fundraiser, staffed by elementary schoolers. By the way, I am completely against child labor, but I can in fact see why it is so tempting to less-regulated and progressive societies. I haven’t received such attentive smiling service in decades. I practically have to fend off all the syrup replacement and coffee refilling experts.
The dining room/gym is decorated as the North Pole and we are immediately greeted by Aunt Me, aka Queen of This North Pole, aka Great Aunt Laurie. She bends down and assumes the close with Nate… straight in for a long, tight hug. Against all odds, Nate hugs her right back, unlike his brother who has averted eye contact and squirmed into the crowd.
When The Queen of the North Pole releases him, Nate turns to me and half whispers, “Mom, I hugged that lady! I was so bwave.”
The other highlight of the pancake breakfast, besides the bake sale selling what looks like pickles on a stick but turns out to be green Twinkies, is that Santa is scheduled to visit. Well, it’s really just Santa’s helper. Jake keenly points out that it is definitely not the actual Santa Claus because “Santa has real leather boots with sheepskin inside, not shiny black rain boots.”
Possibly the cutest thing that happened was before we left for the breakfast. We’re sitting in our pj’s at the kitchen island and Nonna says in a sing-song voice to Nate, “Are you ready to go? I’ve heard someone special is going to be there.”
And without missing a beat Nate says, “Granddad is going to be there?!”
His boots are definitely the real deal.
Santa’s Helper & Nate
Beautiful Oops!
Keeping with this theme of mistake-making and perfectionism, the Book Elf brought us a little tome titled Beautiful Oops! by Barney Saltzberg. A quick Google search has also turned-up a song and a lesson plan and all sorts of other teaching accoutrement.
So now that Jacob is learning to write, and in Spanish no less, we have many opportunities to battle frustration and fix mistakes and raise our adversity quotient by continuing onward and upward because Hugglemonsters never give up! I’ll save you the trouble and do the Mom eye-roll for you…
In a nutshell: This little little board book is slightly more sophisticated than your average board book… which we have generally grown out of except for Sandra Boynton’s Happy Birthday Pookie which just gets funnier and funnier every time you read it.
The Oops book helps you visualize how any mess-up can be turned into something new. Paper tears and stains and holes and folds can be turned into frogs and penguins and all sorts of neat things if you just use your creative noggin. The execution of this book in cardboard helps to better deliver this message with tactile flaps and folds and holes and a telescoping view-finder page that takes five minutes to turn.
Yesterday Nate came to me, fit to be tied, because Jake had drawn a sun in the corner of his picture that he had colored at Geoff’s birthday brunch. It was “wuined!”
And I said, “Hey Nate. I bet you can turn that sun into something cool. Go find the Beautiful Oops book for inspiration.” And get this: he actually ran to find the book and started looking through it for ideas and stopped crying and left me to clean-up the kitchen alone. Beautiful miracle.
Families can talk about: What can you do if your brother accidentally steps on your drawing? Which writing instrument do we choose if we want the ability to erase? How many other letters can you turn an ‘i’ into? Who makes mistakes? Do grown-ups make mistakes? What could we say if we see a friend getting frustrated? What are other words for mistake? Accident? Should you apologize for accidents? Was drawing on your brother’s paper a mistake or an accident or both? Theoretically, what does a sincere apology sound like? Theoretically…
Beautiful Oops! by Barney Saltzberg
The Girl Who Never Made Mistakes
When Jakey was three he went through an “ashamed phase.” If you even gently or innocently questioned his abilities, strength, size, or corrected his behavior, he would melt into a puddle of tears and cave baby grunts and would run away and hide his face.
Once I balked when he offered to pull up this iron horse hitching post that was set in concrete in the middle of our lawn. Fearing that my children would split their heads open on the forehead-high iron dagger protruding from the side, I spent hours twisting and turning the pole, trying to haul it out of the fudgy soil. He was so little and so confident. He offered to pull it out for me and my smile of disbelief sent Jakey into meltdown mode. I felt horrible.
Nate has been going through a similar phase, though not quite as extreme. He’s slightly more accepting of his current stature and station in life.
So when the Book Elf suggested a story about perfectionism, I readily embraced his recommendation of The Girl Who Never Made Mistakes by Mark Pett and Gary Rubenstein.
In a nutshell: Beatrice Bottomwell is an elementary school-aged girl who is famous for never making mistakes. She is able to make PB&J with the exact same amount of PB versus J. She is so perfect that people don’t know her name… she’s just known as “the Girl Who Never Makes Mistakes.” She even has paparazzi that wait for her in the morning outside her house.
Her little brother Carl makes all kinds of mistakes like drawing with green beans and eating cereal with his feet (which I would argue is less of a mistake and more a lack of good judgment). Carl is clearly happy, but also unlikely to be showing-up in Us Weekly.
Beatrice almost ruins her mistake-free record during cooking class when she slips and drops four eggs. But, she miraculously catches them all, landing on her back with all the eggs safely caught— including one in her mouth. After this close call, Beatrice is spooked. Now she’s walking on egg shells (figuratively of course). She avoids ice-skating and other risky activities so as to maintain her reputation of perfection.
Well one day it’s time for her to perform her world-famous juggling act in the school talent show. Spoiler alert: She grabs the pepper shaker instead of the salt shaker and when she combines this mistake with her hamster, Humbert, and a water balloon… Everything goes terribly wrong.
In front of the world, Humbert breathes in the pepper, sneezes, claws the water balloon and explodes it on top of Beatrice, ruining her perfect hair.
And what does Beatrice do after this horribly embarrassing public screw-up? Does she run and hide her face and grunt unintelligible sounds in a puddle of anguished tears?
Staying true to her nature, her reaction is perfect: she laughs. She laughs and laughs and the audience laughs and hallelujah, the pressure to be perfect evaporates. She learns to ice skate and take risks and has fun instead of being such a goody-goody. At the end of the day, she’s no longer famous, but she doesn’t care. Now she can be Beatrice the girl instead of Beatrice the robot.
Families can talk about: Why does Beatrice not want to make mistakes? What does making mistakes teach you? What is the worst thing that could happen if you mess-up? What is the worst thing that could happen if you worry too much about messing-up? What mistakes have you made? What do you do when you make a mistake? Would you rather your name was “the Girl Who Never Makes Mistakes” or Beatrice Bottomwell?
I’d go with option 1 myself.
The Girl Who Never Made Mistakes by Mark Pett and Gary Rubenstein