The gift of loud.

I don’t so much buy presents… except for the kids in my life. Once they’re seven or eight, I have no problems: so many books I know and love already, and of course I welcome any excuse to find more great ones. Best of all is when the child’s tastes run to slightly different genres than I usually read, so I’m forced to read up… I first read China Mieville’s UN LUN DUN and Nancy Farmer’s THE EAR, THE EYE AND THE ARM when testing them for my cousin Alex. (Both passed.)

But when it comes to littler kids, I’m at a loss. I don’t really know what’s age-appropriate, and I don’t know what’s so famous that they’re likely to have it already. Luckily, I now have a blog. And with a blog comes links. My savior this year? 100 Scope Notes’s Best New Books category. Holiday success.

The most gratifying gift-giving moment was undoubtedly due to my cousin Luke’s — Luke of Mean Elizabeth fame — preschool apparently having taught him appropriate responses to receiving a present. As soon as he ripped the paper off of JEREMY DRAWS A MONSTER, he yelled, “It’s JUST what I ALWAYS WANTED!”

As opposed to my niece Sylvia of the same age, whose perpetual response ran more to looking hopeful and asking, “Are there any more presents for me?”

Sylvia also took the time to read several of her favorite books to me. Since she doesn’t read in the traditional sense, this involves her telling me a story based on the pictures and what she remembers from past readings. In her telling, a common feature of stories seems to be their emphasis on YELLED NARRATION.

My other interaction with small children this holiday season was when Emily and I went sledding in Prospect Park. (I’ve recently learned to sled and have now become a sledding fiend. I wanted to take Sylvia out yesterday but the snow had dissipated.) We took it upon ourselves to teach them some valuable lessons about the importance of moving off the hill once your turn is done, lest two shrieking women lying on top of one another in an inflatable bialy run you down. I’m not sure whether all their parents were as grateful as they should have been for our didactic efforts.

Wednesday Words: Doubleschool

And yet, in certain ways, the Institute did remind them of other schools: Rote memorization of lessons was discouraged but required; class participation was encouraged but rarely permitted; and although quizzes were given every day, in every class, there was always at least one student who groaned, another who acted surprised, and another who begged the teacher, in vain, not to give it.

– Trenton Lee Stewart, THE MYSTERIOUS BENEDICT SOCIETY

Kids are so smart.

How old do you think this kid is???

I love the way he nods his head. And when he pauses and looks like he’s going to pick his nose, but he’s just scratching his face.

I feel like the stereotype of adults reading kids’ books is that they are somehow debasing themselves, but let’s face it: I will never, at any age, be as cool as this kid.

Oh, and yes, that is a ukulele he’s playing. I’d like to hook him up with Stephin Merritt, but it’s possible the world would explode.

Meet the new boss…

My roommate moved out today, taking Cooper on a long road trip back to Portland.

Sure, this is great for her life goals of finishing her degree and getting a job she likes and being near her family. But WTF, that’s my step-dog!

Who will chew the tassels off my slippers and sneak up behind me on the couch to remove the scrunchies from my ponytail, with his teeth?

Who will make off with any paper towel or Kleenex left anywhere in the vicinity? (Have I ever mentioned Cooper’s paper products fetish?) Who will leave meat unmolested on the counter, but leap up anytime there’s a shot at the butter?

Who will wriggle his butt while he backs away when I come home, chew-toy in mouth and looking for all the world like a haughty horse so that while I chase him down for tug-of-war I’m forced to inform him that he’s not as special as he thinks he is, are you, My Little Pony?

Who will put his paws on my arms as I rub his belly first thing every morning, reminding me yet again that, in fact, he is the alpha and I exist to do his bidding?

(My sad attempts at being an alpha dog worked about as well as Cooper’s efforts at chasing his tail… occasional success breeding overexcitement and subsequent flailing back into failure. I tried resigning myself to being the beta dog, but my roommate told me sadly that I’m more of a gamma.)

Luckily, to temper my pain, I have a very nice new roommate moving in. And she doesn’t come alone.

Everyone? This is Arthur.

You guys, I feel like The Onion is making fun of us.

Adults Go Wild Over Latest In Children’s Picture Book Series