So when I was at the library and saw 
Big, Bigger, Biggest! I obviously had to check it out. Any book that promises adjectival competence is worth at least bringing home.She's a sponge, right? And a two and a half year old repeating things like "I'm hungriest! I'm insatiable. I'm voracious. I'm rapacious " is pretty cute. A twelve year old using every big word she knows and believing she sounds The. Smartest. is not so cute. I can tell you that from both sides of the audience. So we'll have to dumb Miss down just before she hits precociousness.
And - on the topic of toddlers as figurative sponges - I spent ten minutes upstairs yesterday and she spent that 
whole ten minutes sitting on the bottom step, reciting Pete the Cat, almost word for word. Except for the song, which she inexplicably changed from "I love my white shoes" to "I love my white boobies". Hmm.I know I mentioned it before, but it still has such hypnotic powers that starting to recite it can stop Miss mid-meltdown almost every time. Not to shabby for one little book. Eric Litwin might just deserve some kind of award for that kind of power.
As an embarrassing book-related aside, I finished My Life from Scratch last night and didn't realize until I got to the acknowledgements that it was fiction. Awesome.
Clearly, my only concern with literature is my own or my daughter's response to it.
(Coming eventually: The Stinky Cheese Man and Other Fairly Stupid Tales. I'm cackling with anticipation.)
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