Wild Wonders

My mother has always been an avid reader and she installed the love of books in her children as well. There was never a lack of books in our home, they were hanging out in every room and to this day she has an entire room lined with bookshelves filled from top to bottom with books of all kinds. We had frequent visits to the local library, especially after she started working there. I can still picture her sitting in her spot at the kitchen table, the early morning light shining on her and the book she was reading to us, as we ate our breakfast before running off to catch the school bus. After school we would head to the library, find a cozy corner, and dive into a book until she was finished with her shift. One of her responsibilities was doing story time for the little kids. Even as I got older I loved to sit and listen, the magic of books filling the room. She would make cute, fun props and activities to help make story time even better. My favorite was the can of spring snakes she made to go along with the poem “Mother Doesn’t Want a Dog” by Judith Viorst. I can still hear her voice grabbing the attention of the kids as she quoted,

“Mother doesn't want a dog.

Mother says they smell,

And never sit when you say sit,

Or even when you yell.

And when you come home late at night

And there is ice and snow,

You have to go back out because

The dumb dog has to go.

Mother doesn't want a dog.

Mother says they shed,

And always let the strangers in

And bark at friends instead,

And do disgraceful things on rugs,

And track mud on the floor,

And flop upon your bed at night

And snore their doggy snore.

Mother doesn't want a dog.

She's making a mistake.

Because, more than a dog, I think

She will not want this snake.”

On the last line her voice would increase until she yelled the word snake, at the same moment she’d pop the lid off the can and out the snakes sprang, the kids would all jump and scream then laugh excitedly.

She still does a story time for all her grandkids. Each summer break all the grandkids around will gather at her home once a week and beg her to read one more chapter before they have to head home.

There are so many books I remember losing myself in as a child. All the Dr. Seuss and Mercer Mayer books of course, “Curious George,” Heidi,” “Miss Nelson is Missing,” “The Monster at the End of This Book,” “Danny and the Dinosaur,” “The Day Jimmy’s Boa Ate the Wash,” and so on. As I got older I imagined myself living with the Box Car Children, “A Wrinkle in Time” captivated my mind, I bawled in “A Bridge to Terabithia,” laughed at Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” was shocking and opened my eyes, I got lost in “Fog Magic,” Jane Austen became my friend, and the list could go on and on.

The book though that I loved dearly, would read over and over, and had to be sure was in my own mini library was “Where the Wild Things Are” by Maurice Sendak. It is all about a young boy named Max who gets into trouble, pretending to be a wolf, and is sent to his room. Sitting on his bed a forest begins to grow and he runs off to explore. He travels through the forest and over an ocean to a new land where he becomes king of the monsters, at least until he smells his mom’s food. It reminds him of home and he returns to his room because he misses his mom. I don’t recall being naughty myself, like Max, but perhaps my mother would say different. As a child I fell in love with the idea of a forest growing in my bedroom that was connected to a place with magical creatures. I would read the book and sit in my room picturing where each tree would spring up and which wall would open allowing me to step out into a whole new world. Soon, I’d smell my mom’s own cooking and I’d be brought back to my room, just like Max, so I could go enjoy a delicious dinner.

In high school I came to appreciate how it focused on imagination and using it to find ways to make it through unpleasant times and that you always have someone who loves you to come back to. I even wrote a paper all about it later on for one of my college courses.

Finishing up college with an internship, working at a summer camp for children with disabilities, I used the book for one of our activities. As I read it to the children they got to act out the scenes, pretending to be a howling wolf like Max. We even walked off into the nearby forest and stepped into our imaginary boat rocking to and fro with the huge waves, then stepped off and acted like we were dancing with the monsters. After getting tired of dancing we traced our steps back to camp for a yummy snack. It was a hit and all the kids loved doing it.

Now, as a mother of three rambunctious and wild boys, I understand and appreciate the loving mother and her need to send the crazy away for a time. I love reading to my boys and watching their own imagination take flight. And, yes at times their imagination has driven me to send them off to their bedroom, which is filled with wondrous books to fuel more creativity.

If you’d like to check out some of the wondrous adventures we have been able to take our boys on check out this story.

Or check out this story about some kids who use their imagination for great adventures or perhaps is all made real with magic. Check it out and decide for yourself.