That’s because only my immediate family has seen my intensely disproportionate display of grotesque facial expressions and gestures if certain books turn up in our home, whether as a gift or through someone’s well-intentioned purchase (Ted’s been known to buy the kids books at Value Village) or library acquisition.
I doubt even my immediate family have any idea that I’m not joking, or how strongly I feel about these books: books I truly believe (one some, monkey-brain level) will ruin my children’s minds, if not their lives altogether.
I’m not proud of this, but I have been known to pick up a book or DVD like it were (PLEASE excuse the expression, but there is no better one) a turd and chuck it into the blue recycling bag for Value Village.
And then I scream at anyone who dares go near it or touch it… or, chas v’shalom, resurrect it from the bag.
“It’s DEAD to me! Dead, do you hear?”
I react very strongly to truly bad “literature”: it’s like an allergy. An example might be anything that had the words “Disney” and “Pooh” on the same cover. My intellectual gag reflex is going a mile a minute, just looking at the image at the top of this post.
Here’s MY Winnie the Pooh:
This one makes my mind feel good. This one makes me happy. I used to have a series of Ernest Shepard Pooh illustrations up on the hallway of my apartment. They were practically the only decor.
The other one???
GAAAAH!!!! It’s EVIL! It’s STARING at me! Get it AWAY!
Lest you think it’s all about Pooh, how about the Good, True, Authentic Peter Pan?
The Truly Bad Evil Disgusting Get-it-OUT! Peter Pan:
Which one is more familiar to your kids???