Tad Hills, known for his best selling Duck & Goose picture books, has done it again with this imaginative tale filled with adorable animal characters.  My 5 year-old, often hard to get to focus, was engrossed from the beginning.  Rocket would rather play in the leaves than learn to read, but the clever little yellow bird does not give up.  She comes every day and hangs an alphabet banner from the trees announcing, “Ah, the wondrous, mighty, gorgeous alphabet”.  Then she begins reading a story aloud, engaging Rocket until he is eager to know the ending.  The bird smartly makes him wait until the next day to find out, solidifying his interest in reading.

Rocket now hooked, hunkers down to learn his letters and we get to see the words spelled out phonetically – separated by hyphens.  Perfect for an early reader, my son loved spelling out his ABCs, especially since they were written in the snow.  Readers join Rocket in first recognizing their alphabet, sounding out the letters and finally constructing words together with the enthusiastic little puppy.  When the bird leaves for the winter, Rocket is hooked and continues to practice spelling out words like M-U-D, while he’s covered in what else, but mud.

When the little yellow bird finally returns in the Fall, Rocket is ready to begin his lessons again.  The two settle down to read books and discover stories together.  The illustrations of the changing seasons in oil and colored pencil, are the ideal rendering for this sweet, captivating story.

A great back-to-school book, How Rocket Learned to Read is not only entertaining, but perfect for building confidence in early readers.  To order visit their website.

FACEBOOK GIVEAWAY: We are giving away 5 How Rocket Learned to Read books on Facebook this week! (Retail value: $90) Visit our honestbaby fan page to enter!

I See Me makes personalized storybooks so every child knows in their heart that this is a special gift just for them.  Their recent addition “Who Loves Jacob?” (replace Jacob’s name with the name of a child in your life) is a great way to reinforce the special relationship between your child and all the people who love them.  There are six spreads where you can input the name of loved ones in your child’s life – such as Grandma Jo and Grandpa Sam (that would be one spread).  The book is beautifully illustrated and imaginatively poetic.

Across the board these books are classy gifts and anyone would love to get one.  The quality is outstanding and it is always so nice to see your name in print.  There are a number of options for different personalized books and the company is kind and organized enough to let you know if you are ordering a book for a child who has already gotten that exact gift.  The books are keepsakes as well and the gift-giver’s name is printed in the dedication that opens each book so your little friend will always know just who it was that thought so highly of them.

Pacify Me, addressed my fears, which by the way are similar to your wife’s fears, but also well, different.  He talks about fears of losing your old life (which you do), and ways to keep yourself, your marriage and even your sex life intact (which you can).  Sometimes he speaks in an opinionated voice, but he doesn’t apologize about it either (He is a vaccinator, hates the Wiggles, is against co-sleeping and TV for the first year – among other things).

Can’t say I agree with the TV thing.  Those baby videos allowed my wife to take showers.  And my wife’s hygiene is something that I support. I do agree with hating the Wiggles.  But I digress.

My favorite thing about this book is not the wittiness and intelligent humor, or the male-to-male kind of speak, it was the way he told it exactly like it is – like it’s gonna be, but then  showed how he got through it…sometimes gracefully, sometimes not.  Chris wants you to learn from his wisdom…and I did.

Oftentimes women talk too much, and sometimes they don’t share enough (like what really happens during labor).  Chris finds the right balance of sharing, humor and not talking down to you – which, well you know, we get our share of.

This book was like my wife’s prenatal yoga class…afterwards I felt less anxious.  I felt I had people going through exactly the same thing as me, and that was very Namaste, you know?  My wife has piles and piles of baby books.  It’s nice to have one just for me.   I even caught my wife reading it and smiling.  Thanks Chris, but I gotta go, being a Daddy is demanding…but definitely the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me.

Buy it now!

THE CHRISTMAS MAGIC
Far, far North, when the nights are longest and the stars shine brightest, Santa begins to prepare for his big night of giving. He gathers his reindeer, feeds them parsnips and berries, and polishes his bells and his sled. Then lovingly, he chooses toys for every child in the world. For Santa loves them all, and he knows what each child at heart wants most. Then, with the thrum of magic that makes reindeers fly, he spreads the Christmas joy and warmth throughout the world–as he always has — and always will until the end of time.  From best-selling author Lauren Thomas, and Caldecott Honor Artist Jon J Muth.

FACEBOOK GIVEAWAY: We are giving away 2 of The Nutcracker and The Mouse King books and 2 of The Christmas Magic books on the  honestbaby fan page this week! ($71.96 Value)

My only potential conflict is that I loath the thought of being a complete bore. I’ve been laughed at and humiliated in these types of situations before (Don’t ask) and I refuse to let it happen again. So I have decided that instead of picking an existing story that the children are familiar with, I will write my own story. Those poor little bastards…

I present to you some rough sketches and my first draft of…
Do Witches Make Fishes?

There once was a boy who never ate dinner.
His Mother would kvetch, “You can’t get much thinner!”

And the Boy would reply,
“I hate all your dishes and besides,
I like candy not Carrots and Fishes.”

So he took a deep breath

Then he reached in his pocket
That always felt sticky
And pulled from it something incredibly icky.

He’d been saving it up
For a special occasion
And now was the time, for the Candy Invasion.

There were Gummy Worms, Candy Corns, Fun Dip and Charms.
Appleheads, Fireballs and Chocolate Yarn.

With his last bit of strength
He drew back his hand
And let go of a handful, of One Hundred Grands.

It hit her on target
Right in the belly
And she fell over backwards
Right into some Jelly.

She didn’t seem hurt but was certainly stuck
Thank goodness for that and a bit of good luck.

The funny thing is, after all the commotion
He heard some loud growling
And felt a compulsion.

“I AM HUNGRY!” He cried.
But I don’t want my sweets.
I don’t want these sugary, lollipop treats.

What I want is my Mommy
To cook me her dishes.
I want her to make me, her Carrots and Fishes…

THE END…

I hope the kids will be hungry. I’m thinking of bringing in Gobstoppers and Talapia.

The teacher will have to decide which is worse; Being Out-Numbered by Kids or Fish…

Go to Disney’s Baby Einstein Website to find out how to get your money back, or trade in for a book or CD of your choice. We have no bone to pick with the Baby Einstein videos as entertainment, our kids loved them, but don’t love the deceptive advertising.  It’s nice that they’re making up for it.

This book program is separated by age – newborn to 6 months, 6 to 12 months, 12 to 18 months and 18 to 24 months so it helps parents make sense of the disordered array of reading choices they often face in the marketplace. Begin Smart is a gift of learning—not only for children under three, but also for parents.

FACEBOOK CONTEST: Tune into the honestbaby Facebook Fan Page to win a  Begin Smart book this week!

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My partner loves her Bugaboo. I’ve hated it since the day we got it. It’s easy to hate. After you buy the rain cover and the car seat attachment and the mosquito net and the Breezy Sun Canopy and the parasol and the Snuggly Foot Muff and the latte cup holder and the grocery bag hook and the custom diaper bag and the Transport Bag, it tops out at well over a thousand dollars. A thousand dollars for a stroller. My first car cost me less than that. And try to get the thing into the trunk of a taxi while cars pile up behind you on a busy street.

There is one day I remember in particular; I was trying to break down our Bugaboo and put it on the bus after a day by the sea in Dunleary, Ireland because the bus driver would not allow it on board except folded and was threatening to leave me by the roadside as I struggled to collapse the metal frame. As I waged war on my partner’s beloved Bugaboo, she watched through the window as did the entire bus with our precious daughter clutched to her breast, while my son from my previous marriage pressed his nose against the glass. Finally Dolores sent out Sam, age five, to help.

Daddy, you just press the hooks down and back, not up. No, Daddy, no, no, don’t jam it.

Sam, I said to my son, as I unclenched my teeth, Daddy knows how to do it.

No, Daddy, here, look, I’ll show you. My son reached for the culprit, a small silver handle that would not respond to my insistent jabbing.

Sam. Please, I said, my voice rising, my frustration mounting, just . . . get . . . on.

At that moment God asserted himself, the bar released and the wheels folded and the Bugaboo base collapsed and I hoisted the now properly folded contraption up and onto the bus as passengers leaned far back in their seats, eyes averted, while I stormed down the aisle, fury masking my humiliation. For the duration of the ride back to Dublin, I sat on the upper level of the bus, fuming, far from my family, who sat on the main level below me. Naturally, I blamed my partner for all this. As the bus lurched, the thought settled in on me albeit six years late that my life had really and truly changed beyond any recognition of its former incarnation.

I took stock. I was divorced. I have two small children by two different women -What do I, play in the NBA? I scolded myself. And I divide my time poorly between New York and Ireland, living in neither place peacefully. How did this happen to me? The facts were easy to trace. I had married my college sweetheart, we then had a child, the culmination of our youthful love, and we split. I met a woman and after four days she moved to America; a week later, she was pregnant. That all seemed kind of quick, except for the days early on when morning sickness was in full bloom, those days seemed very long. It was then, during solitary afternoon walks in the woods, that I decided I would move to Bolivia, alone. But then our daughter was born and love saved the day. So that’s how I got to be on the bus in Ireland, that much was clear but like I said, those are just facts. So much of the why of it all has remained a mystery to me.

But as the bus inched along, I told myself, Hey, it’s normal that I’m just now realizing how different my life is, a lot has happened, fast, and I’m just getting my head above water. But what ever the reason, the veil was dropping, and it was becoming clear to me what perhaps should have been clear from the very start: My simple, well-ordered life would never come back again. And to make matters worse, the realization dawned on me that I was no longer calling all the shots, and the few I was calling went challenged, disregarded, or unheard.

Running my own life when I was alone, it was easy to fool myself into thinking that I was doing a terrific job orchestrating things. After all, there was no one around to contradict me, and, hey, maybe I was, but with a new partner I was still getting to know, I wasn’t even sure if she liked me yet. I was making one wrong move after the next. And as we disembarked and crammed into her parents car, I felt like the teenager I had not been in many, many years. I tried to laugh along as my struggles with the Bugaboo were recounted in the car and again later that evening at the family dinner table. But I felt alone in it all, isolated and misunderstood. Then, as everyone around me heartily dove into a dessert, I proudly refused out of self- pity, I felt suddenly like the Grinch when he’s atop Mt. Crumpit: My heart seemed to verily burst open and all the love I normally hold in check, for fear of being decimated by its loss or by its rejection, poured out. I sat motionless as a feeling of calm descended upon me, a feeling that I would not admit to anyone until much later once it had receded. But there was no denying that it has left its mark.

The Bugaboo had proven to be a perfect receptacle for my occasional fits of resentment at my situation my loving more than I ever thought I could, and allowing myself to be loved by more people than I ever thought I would. And in that love I have come to realize just how little say I have and just how lucky I am to be so far out on an emotional limb.

Excerpted from Afterbirth: Stories You Won’t Read in a Parenting Magazine, edited by Dani Klein Modisett.

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