Something different, humble readers! The beautiful wife is just about to hit the two-thirds mark in her pregnancy, and man o man has that belly popped! I can’t wait to meet the little jellybean. I’ve already started to read to my child. Books were such a big part of my childhood, so I’d love them to be there for him/her too. (Forgive the awkward phrasing here; I really want to mention the gender but some people reading this blog have explicitly asked not to know, so I’m desperately dancing around pronouns).
Problem is, most of my own books aren’t fit reading material for the bubba. I’ve already exhausted my library of kid’s books. And my library, I mean two or three. The Wolves in the Walls, by Neil Gaiman and Dave McKean, was first cab off the rank, followed a week later by The Day I Swapped My Dad For Two Goldfish by the same gents. Jellybean seemed to like them, but that was all I had. I dug around in my collection and found another book, a Chinese tale of Old Man Wind printed back in the 1960s that I’d read as a child, but it hadn’t aged well. It had dying parents, letting strangers into the house and lots of inappropriate sitting on weird old men’s laps. A simpler time, perhaps.
So, I’m up for suggestions to build baby’s library. The Hungry Caterpillar will undoubtedly make an appearance, and I remember Barbapapa books fondly. Oh, and of course Tikki Tikki Tembo-no Sa Rembo-chari Bari Ruchi-pip Peri Pembo (which is, I’ve now found out, apparently culturally insensitive and demeaning – but, hey ho, different age etc.). Any other thoughts?