More migration

Dear Aunt Debbie,

We opened Isabel's birthday box on Thursday night, as you'd surmised, and have been happily reading and re-reading the new books since then.  One in particular was a happy surprise to me, due both to its subject matter and its authorship.

Gotta Go! Gotta Go! is not at all a bathroom-related book, but the story of a "creepy-crawly bug" who hatches from her egg with an immediate purpose:

The creepy-crawly bug held up her head, looked out at the beautiful meadow, and said, "I don't know much, but I know what I know.  I gotta go!  I gotta go!  I gotta go to Mexico!"

She eats and crawls her way across the meadow of her birth, encountering other small creatures who are curious about her destination:

"Mexico?" said the grasshopper.  "What on earth is Mexico?"
"I have no idea," said the creepy-crawly bug.  "But if Mexico is where I'm going, and it is, then Mexico will be wherever I get."
And she creepy-crawled away just as fast as she could go.

You have to admire this bug's self-assurance.

After some time, a shedding of skin, and a very long nap, she emerges again as "a creepy-crawly bug with wings," a.k.a. a monarch butterfly, as is clear from Sue Riddle's illustrations.  The journey toward Mexico continues, now slightly less improbable, though still insanely long.  There is resting and dancing with other butterflies, and then the journey back, and a lovely ending which mirrors the first page of the book, implying a repeating cycle.

Because, of course, this is the story of the migration of the monarch butterfly (the second monarch migration story we've received, and loved, for Isabel's birthday).  While Bird, Butterfly, Eel tells it at a more poetic remove, Gotta Go! Gotta Go!, like its title, moves forward at a pleasing pace.  It's fun to read, and inspires chanting.  Of course, we may need to visit Mexico sometime soon because of it.

The author is Sam Swope, who I know personally through two great organizations.  I met Sam through the New York City Public Library's Cullman Center, which runs a series of workshops for teachers which are among the best professional development I've ever taken part in.

Sam's new brainchild is a terrific organization called the Academy for Teachers, which aims to bring together great teachers from New York City public schools (and someday, schools around the country) in seminars with great public figures (Gloria Steinem is holding one in February) at cultural institutions throughout the city.  I've known for years that Sam was a tremendous organizer and intellectual, as well as a tremendously charming man; I didn't realize that he was a terrific children's book author as well.  This may be one I'll need to get autographed someday soon.

Love, Annie

Migrating in style

Dear Annie,

Ah, bedtime reading.  Such a lovely time.  Such a challenge to exhausted parents. We had the luxury of two parents at home at most bedtimes, so we would alternate which parent put which child to bed each night.  Before the days of chapter books, the deal was two picture books, then bed.  That of course led to lots of negotiation.  A reading of Grumpy Bird is considerably shorter than, say, A Baby Sister for Frances.  And two Frances-length books could put off sleep for quite a while.  Once the girls were in chapter book mode, each would have her own bedtime-specific book.  Because we stuck to the policy of parental units alternating nights, each of us would end up reading every other chapter of a lot of books.  Part of our post-child-bedtime conversation would involve briefing each other on what happened in books we were particularly fond of.  What I remember about single-parent nights was starting in Mona's room (she being a year and a half younger) and reading to both of them, then tucking Mona in and continuing upstairs to Lizzie's room.  Definitely harder.

Our box of birthday books left Washington today, heading to you in time for Isabel's birthday.  There are books for both of your girls, of course.  And because today is the first day of fall, I'm going to give you a preview of one of them.  It's
A Flock of Shoes, by Sarah Tsiang, from the same Canadian publisher that brought us The Paper Bag Princess. 

Abby has wonderful pink and brown flip-flops with lime green trim which she wears very happily all summer long.  As cooler weather approaches, Abby refuses to relinquish them, just adding socks to keep warm.  But one day, as she's swinging high, first one sandal falls off, then the other:

They join a V-formation of summer shoes flying south.  Abby's mom gives her cool boots, but she's slow to bond with them, instead thinking of what her sandals are doing.  There's a postcard with a picture of the flip-flops in beach chairs on the sand: "Thought about your heels today.  We miss you to the bottom of our soles."  Abby finally becomes fond of the boots, but when warm weather comes, they stomp off to a northbound train, just as the sandal population is winging its way north.  Her pair finds her: "They were rested and fat, grown just wide enough for Abby's feet."

I love this book.  Have sent it to both of my daughters in college, and am going to make it the centerpiece of my fall books display.  Hey, leaves can fall any year -- but how often do shoes migrate?

Love,

Deborah