Am I a nice godmother, or what? This is the cover of a tape I made today for my little nephew Joe, who just underwent a tonsilectomy and is now going to have his little world rocked again when his baby sister arrives on the scene next week. He's such a cheery kid; it'll be an adjustment but he's taking everything in stride. It's amazing, the kind of books that are out there for children. Some are simply wonderful. Some are just awful. We read a lot to Sophie, and sometimes I will stop dead in the middle of a story and put it away because I don't want her to hear any more of it. F'rinstance.... The Three Little Kittens. Mom tells them to put their mittens on, then gives them blueberry pie, then punishes them because they got the mittens dirty. Hello.... The kids listen to mom and then get punished when they try to follow her orders. Nope. Not reading it. Beatrix Potter: I think we were reading The Flopsy Bunnies or some deceptively sweet title like that. The McGregors plot about how they want to kill and skin the rabbits and make gloves out of them. Ummmm.... .nope again. Mother Goose: How about the bough breaking and baby falling? What kind of a terrifying lullaby is that? So I've been reading The Chinaberry Tree with great delight. It's by a mom who had these same thoughts when reading to her first child and started a book review for children, to choose the cream of the crop. I'm already tagging pages of books to check out at our next library trip. Although our library doesn't have Chicken Soup with Rice, which I consider to be a major mistake on their part; they do have this book, which I remember reading with my mom when I was five. (Yes, I was one of those kids.)