So my brother feels that books should come with warning labels, and I agree with him. Like cigarettes, here in Canada. Something along the lines of "If you read this, you might go blind". I spent yesterday learning about cataract and vitrectomy surgery (hereafter "eyeball surgery", because I'm technically-minded like that), because I'm going to have some on Friday. My eyeball surgery - which I found out I needed yesterday, mind you - has to happen as soon as possible because my retina got lazy and decided to give up on good posture. It's slumping. It had no mother to tell it to "sit straight or your back will stay like that". It's slumping so bad that it's almost slumped right off.
So in the interest of admitting that I have a problem, and it is a book addiction, today's edition of the wednesday bookshelf will be limited to one book. And we're going to stop talking about how they're going to melt off the front of my eye, scoop out all the vitreous jelly (eew), laser my retina back in place, and send me home.
Today's book (and this was one of the ones I got on Monday when I played the library game) is Some Dogs Do, by Jez Alborough, author of one of my other all-time favourites, Hug
. The rhyme and rhythm of this book is so catchy that reading it out loud is the only way to do it. Even if you're just reading it yourself. Even if you're just reading it yourself, in the library. Or bookstore. You can't read this silently. I dare you to try.
Some Dogs Do isn't a particularly witty or cheeky story - and you know how I like those - but even though it's sweet and cute, I'd still recommend getting your hands on it, and not just because of the way it sounds. Sid's happiness about flying and the dear way his Dad relates to him when everyone else tells him that dogs don't fly is particularly refreshing, because I've noticed a trend in a lot of (bad) kids books (read this in a snarky, nasal voice, please): the only people who understand you and can guide you on your journey of self-discovery and potential building are your teachers.
Boooo. Does that sound stupid to anyone else? Great teachers are great. It's a tough job, and some of them do it really, really well. And some parents really suck at being parents. But I'm a little tired of kids books, public school curricula, and provincial policy all produced from the mindset that - left to their own pitiful devices - parents will definitely screw up their child's imagination and potential.
Wow, that has nothing to do with this book. Sorry.
Also, in the interest of full disclosure, I had to look up the plural of curriculum on line.
