So I’ve probably read “Little Bear’s Little Boat” dozens, if not hundreds, of times. Partly because the boy seems to like it pretty well, partly because it’s not overlong or overshort for his age (20 months), and partly because I don’t want to set fire to my head at the thought of having to read it again. But I did notice something recently (on read number fifty or so): Big Bear chats with Otter at one point. But during that conversation, Otter appears to be eating saltwater shellfish. And appears to be a sea otter, not a river otter. So I ask: what in blazes is he doing in Huckleberry Lake?
I could love 50 cent on a bus, but not in a Bentley.
When we went to Bellingham for Thanksgiving this year, we weren’t entirely certain the hosts–my aunt and uncle, who’s grandchildren are now between seven and seventeen years of age–would have much in the way of age appropriate toys for T. So we thought to bring some of T’s toys along for the ride. Only thing was, we were driving D’s Impreza, which isn’t exactly the largest vehicle in the world, and we had an assortment of other, somewhat more necessary things to bring along. Like a portable crib. And a booster seat. And my brother. So we had to be choosy.
[As it turns out, this was patently unnecessary, because somehow there was a collection of toddler-appropriate toys and books that had collected in my aunt and uncle's house over the years.]
D’s solution was to purchase a Fisher Price Little People bus. Which, it turns out, actually comes with batteries. Which made it quite a bit more annoying than I was hoping. But it seemed to occupy him pretty well for a few minutes. Success.
Thing is, when I hear the word “bus” now, my brain immediately starts playing 50 Cent’s “21 Questions.” As in, “could you love me on a bus?” Fucking earworm-recording motherfucker ruined another Thanksgiving. But it dovetailed nicely with the copy of “Green Eggs and Ham” we brought along.