Charlotte's Web

Summer 2012, I had a grand project for my daughter and myself; we will read a book everyday including chapter books. She started reading at three, and I knew it was time to move on to the next level. Every night we read a book, which becomes our cozy ritual. During bedtime story she points out my mistake and corrects my words or mispronunciation. To my defense I make same old excuses, "English isn't my first language. I don't know all the words or how to pronounce correctly." So far, I didn't receive any refutation.

I have heard of name of the book, Charlotte's Web by E.B. White. But I haven't read English version. (Nor Korean version...) In fact, having acquainted the author E.B. White from One Man's Meat, was good stepping stone for me to embark on reading Charlotte's Web.  

“It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer.”
― E.B. White, Charlotte's Web

What's the story?

When Fern convinces her father not to kill the runt pig of the litter, she names him Wilbur and raises him with a bottle. Soon Wilbur goes to live in her Uncle Homer Zuckerman's barn down the road, where she visits him every day. But when she's not there, Wilbur is lonely -- the sheep, cows, geese, and even the rats don't want to play and be his friend. Then he meets Charlotte, a gray spider whose web is in a corner of the barn door, and they become good friends. But soon after, they learn that Wilbur is to be slaughtered next Christmas to make ham and bacon. So Charlotte hatches a plan to make the Zuckermans want to keep Wilbur around forever.                                                                   

  

It has twenty-two chapters. That means we needed to be persistent and patient. Each chapter has at least seven pages. So we needed roughly a month to read. Some nights we read three chapters until I got thirsty, other nights we skipped to the picture book.

At the end of August, we finished reading Charlotte's Web. It was my own victorious moment, howling 'YES, I MADE IT' in my heart, patting my shoulders. I didn't give up nor rush it through. I managed to keep the momentum of reading chapters so that my girl was still interested in. 

     "Mom...it's too sad," my daughter said after reading the last line of the book, "My heart really hurts and I don't like it. I don't like sad story."
     "I know how you feel," I hugged her and rubbed her chest, trying to heal the pain. "It's ok. The way you feel now is normal, and if you feel like crying you can cry out too."

Seeing her trying not to cry, instead being angry at book, reminded me my immature version. This was one of the coping mechanism that I had developed since I was little. Being grumpy and angry at others made a lot easier to deal with heart-bent situation, and certainly it worked. (Funny thing is lots of people do that too.)

After reading the whole book, I understood the small words - All Ages, at the bottom of the back cover. It wasn't only for the young children, because it also made me paralyzed from its impact after reading. Charlotte's Web was published in 1952, yet after 60 years it still touches many readers' heart. The truth of life says itself.

 “After all, what's a life, anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die.”
― E.B. White, Charlotte's Web

The Kissing Hand

 

Last Wednesday my daughter and I went to the Round Up meeting at her school. She is going to kindergarten and she will stay seven hours from Monday to Friday. I've been busy buying school supplies, planning lunch menus, driving a school route. I think I'm ready or am I? 

During the Round Up meeting parents and kids sat on the colorful rug, which was settled in the middle of the kindergarten classroom. A teacher sat on the small chair, and introduced the book, The Kissing Hand by Audrey Penn. 

After reading we were asked to move to the craft center and to draw our hands on the construction paper. My daughter and I traced each hands and decorated them with flowers, hearts, and a nail polish as well. A teacher walked around and asked friendly questions to my little girl. She answered without hesitation, "I am a good illustrator and I write a story like my mom." A teacher showed me a big smile, I smiled her back. 

My hand will be placed on top of my daughter's cabinet, so whenever she misses me she will go and touch my hand. Her little hand is already laminated and will be placed in our car rear mirror. 

School starts in less than 36 hours. Although I'm thoroughly done with her prep, I still can't get out of the haze or in a shock that my little baby is going to kindergarten. My girl, however, gave me a strong assurance that she would be fine when the teacher had asked, "are you all going to miss your mom and dad?" 

"No, I'm not going to miss my mom. I'm ready," she answered. 

The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein

 The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein is a recent my emotion-breaker. It blew me up like a dynamite. I've been training myself as a tough mom, emotion-sealed parent. My compressed emotions were burst out by this book.  This simple story halted me from my mundane life.

     "Once there was a tree... and she loved a little boy." So begins a story of unforgettable perception, beautifully written and illustrated by the gifted and versatile Shel Silverstein. 

     Every day the boy would come to the tree to eat her apples, swing from her branches, or slide down her trunk... and the tree was happy. But as the boy grew older he began to want more from the tree, and the tree gave and gave. 

     This is a tender story, touched with sadness, aglow with consolation. Shel Silverstein has created a moving parable for readers of all ages that offers an affecting interpretation of the gift of giving and a serene acceptance of another's capacity to love in return.  

-Excerpt from The Giving Tree

The book cover is a lime green, a color of new life.
The blank space on each pages make me to write, to fill the gap.
But I learned, long time ago, a blank space is an artist's active device to the passive readers.
Staring simple black lines in pictures and words, I can't flip the page too fast; I want to live in this space.

For a moment I put down everything in my life.
I jump in this story; I become a little boy, I become a tree.
As this little boy grow older, I mirror myself.
This boy wants more and more, the tree give him again and again.
The boy takes for granted everything the tree gave him, but it doesn't matter to the tree.
She was happy to give; she was happy when the boy was happy. 

I have to confess; I'm an extremely emotional person. The strong waves of feelings sway me from here and there, they pause me from keep moving forward. Life is already hard without emotions, and my sensitive intuition makes my perception tougher to control, to neutralize. While reading The Giving Tree, my effort being tough and resilient was in vain. I fail to numb myself from it, but I'm glad to be failed. Because The Giving Tree satisfied my heart and my soul. 

*   *   *

From Where the Sidewalks Ends by Shel Silverstein

 

Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs

My daughter was quiet. It was unusual for her being silent when I ask her to choose for the bedtime story. She picks her book without taking too much time, but tonight she was awfully quiet. I peeked at her and found her looking at the cover image, almost studying it. I knew her questions would follow in a minute, "Mom, how come meatballs fall from the sky? and why this guy carries a spoon, fork and knife in his pocket?" 

Leading her to the bed, I answered "I guess we will figure it out soon." 

I read the title, "Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs, written by Judi Barrett, drawn by Ron Barrett."

She interrupted immediately, "mom, they have same family name."

"Yes," I took deep breath, "I think they are family members." 

The tiny town of Chewandswallow was very much like any other tiny town except for its weather which came three times a day, at breakfast lunch and dinner. 

     But it never rained rain and it never snowed snow and it never blew just wind. I rained things like soup and juice. It snowed things like mashed potatoes. And sometimes the wind blew in storms of hamburgers. 

     Life for the townspeople was delicious until the weather took a turn for the worse. The food got larger and larger and so did the portions. Chewandswallow was plagued by damaging floods and storms of huge food. The town was a mess and the people feared for their lives. 

     Something had to be done, and in a hurry.         

--Excerpt from Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs

While we were reading it, I laughed and laughed. I was amazed by these phenomenal ideas. 

     'Wouldn't it be nice if we live in Chewandswallow? I don't need to fuss going grocery and cooking,' I imagined happily. My daughter, on the other hand, was perplexed. 

     "Mom," she frowned," if Orange juice falls from the sky, it's gonna be sticky everywhere. And if a hotdog falls from the sky, what would I eat? I don't like a hotdog." 

I didn't answer. I was having a good time imagining all the nonsense. I kept laughing and laughing out loud. 

   "Look, honey," I giggled, "can you imagine Gorgonzola cheese falling from sky? Can you imagine the smell? What about overcooked broccoli in a romantic dinner? Brussel sprouts and peanut butter with mayonnaise for a birthday!! Isn't it so funny?"  

  For the first time, I laughed out loud just like a kid during the bed time story. I really enjoyed reading a picture book along with my little daughter. It was a refreshing fact that I can have fun in her story time. It was a moment of epiphany that I don't need a fancy gadget to be entertained. I had a wonderful time reading a children's picture book.