Whenever my nephew Finn asks to watch TV at our house and is refused, he asks why on Earth we prevent Elijah from the joy of the boob tube. To which my brother replies, “Because uncle Rick and aunt Di are hippies. Dirty, stinking hippies.”
The result of our TV ban is Elijah has gotten heavily into books. Dog books, Dinosaur books, potty training books. You name it, he reads it. Or asks that it be read to him. But there is one book that he loves which baffles me to no end. “Baby’s First Book.”
It’s a book that was published in 1955. It follows a first person account, or first baby account, of a Toddler going through his/her day. It’s written simplistically, which I can tolerate. “I wake up…I put on my shoes…I play with my ball…”
But then towards the end of the book the story takes a bizarre turn. Right after the Toddler eats some fruit (“I eat some fruit…”) he/she says, “I see some balloons…And a bird…And my present, some paint.”
And that’s it. The book simply ends. Which begs a few questions. Did the baby just drop acid? Was English the author’s first language? Did all involved simply abandon the project to fight in the Korean War?
And to make matters worse, take a look at the cover. It’s a baby reading a book about himself, who is reading a book about himself. Into infinity. I just blew your mind.
Needless to say, the book frightens me. I think if I read it out loud I will open a dimensional portal, thus allowing demons into our realm like the Necronomicon. So of course Eli demands that it be read to him constantly.
“Mo baby? Mo baby?”
“No please. Daddy doesn’t want to. It disturbs him.”
“Mo baby? Again?”
“Fine. But if we let demons into our dimension, you have to help me banish them.”
“Mo baby?”
1 comment:
Don't fear the Necronomicon. All you need to do is say the words.
You do remember the words, don't you?
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