Mr. Putter and Tabby

“I bet Mr. Putter and Mrs. Teaberry get it on after Tabby and Zeke go to bed.”

I posted that the other night, but then through my own tired ineptness with my Tumblr phone app, accidentally deleted it. But not before it got posted to Facebook, where somebody shared this link

…one of my favorite romances is one that blossoms in the pages of the Mr. Putter and Tabby series, written by Cynthia Rylant and illustrated by Arthur Howard. Rylant never identifies the relationship between elderly Mr. Putter and his cheerful neighbor, Mrs. Teaberry, as anything other than platonic, but whenever I read of their interaction with each other, I confess to getting a little fluttery.

Read the rest. It’s kinda funny/sweet/cute.

R.I.P. Maurice Sendak

“Once a little boy sent me a charming card with a little drawing on it. I loved it. I answer all my children’s letters — sometimes very hastily — but this one I lingered over. I sent him a card and I drew a picture of a Wild Thing on it. I wrote, “Dear Jim: I loved your card.” Then I got a letter back from his mother and she said, “Jim loved your card so much he ate it.” That to me was one of the highest compliments I’ve ever received. He didn’t care that it was an original Maurice Sendak drawing or anything. He saw it, he loved it, he ate it.”

Maurice Sendak

There are stories everywhere
Beth: [age 3] "I'd like to read this to you."
Me: "Go ahead."
Beth: "It's a story. It says, 'And the Frenchman was very sad, because his bird had flown away, and he could not find it.'"
Me: "You read all that?"
Beth: "Yes."
Me: "But you're holding a Target shopping bag. I don't see any of those words on there."
Beth: "Daddy, there are stories everywhere. You just don't know how to read like I do."
It's just so sad
[Scene: Beth, age 3, has just finished reading a children's book with her grandmother, when Beth starts crying]
Grandma: "Beth, what's wrong? Why are you crying?"
Beth: "It's so sad!"
Grandma: "What's so sad?"
Beth: "That story! Why did the little bunny have to lose his blankie? It's just so sad!"
Let’s read something else

We were recently reminscing how Beth, at age 2, asked us to read everything to her. She would hold up anything with writing on it and say “Read!” — at home, in waiting rooms, anywhere.

One time, she found a medical journal and opened it to an article on penile lesions, complete with several graphic close-up photographs of male genitalia in states of obvious pain. She shouted, “Read! Read!”

I said, “Let’s read something else, dear.”