Another awesome guest post from Lisa Roe of Online Publicist fame:
My cousin’s wife gave birth to their first child last week. They’ve named her Asamina, but will call her Mina until she becomes rich and famous enough to warrant the first syllable. I was so thrilled to see her picture! She’s beautiful and adorable and perfect and chubby and sweet. The way babies are.
I feel particularly close to this new member of the family because I’ve never really been around babies for any extended period of time. While we have an enormous German family, everyone is scattered across Wisconsin, so I tend to watch my family members grow up through that oh so innovative, technological way: emailed pictures and Christmas card bulletins.
Her baby shower was set for after the baby’s due date so that family could fly in, visit, and get to meet the chubby little puddin’. I was not able to attend the shower, so we agreed to do breakfast together instead.
While I understand the draw, ease, and convenience of gift registries, something about them just rubs me the wrong way. I am a GREAT gift giver. I put a ton of thought into gifts and always strive to make the recipient feel super über special. So, I opted to completely ignore her registry and do my own thing (you think I’m the reason they came up with those registry thingies?) As I pondered the crème de la crème of gifts, I naturally decided on books. Books for baby?! Pure genius!
So, my boyfriend and I were in a used bookstore (and yes, if you read my first guest post on Trish’s blog, this is the same boyfriend, different day, different bookstore. Yeah. We likey books), as I have been trying in vain to replace one particular book that I have now lost a total of 3 times. The book itself is merely ok and really a novelty at best, but I have become obsessed with simply acquiring and maintaining possession of it. Just to test fate and see if it can be done.
I wandered over to the children’s titles to see if I could track down some cool vintage looking books for baby. And there they were: stacks and stacks and stacks of Little Golden Books. Eyes wide, slight gasp, and full on scurrying over to the mountain o’ Little Golden treasure, I plopped down on the floor and started tearing through the stacks. My boyfriend joined me as we giggled and reminisced and relived the worlds of Mother Goose, Disney, Sesame Street, Barbie (this one was all me!), and The Little House That Jack Built. *le sigh* What fun.
As I started to wind down from the initial Little Golden high, he continued to rifle through the piles. I asked what he was looking for. “The best Little Golden Book there ever was: The Monster at the End of This Book.” It took a moment of prodding from him for it to click. Yes!! I did remember it. Grover is bricking up the wall and begging the reader NOT TO TURN ANOTHER PAGE because soon it would be the end of the book and that’s where the monster was. We laughed and laughed and never found a copy of it.
A few days later, my cousin’s wife came over with her little Mina bundle of love. When I gave her the books, she lingered on the Little Golden’s and said, “That’s really funny. I just read one of these to Mina last night as I was feeding her. It’s my all-time favorite: The Monster at the End of This Book.”
As for right now, the search for the ‘book to be replaced’ has taken a back seat in light of this new Little Golden development. I have now been overcome by the deep and sudden urge to seek out and secure a beat up, original, vintagey looking, 70’s version of Grover’s monster book for my boyfriend. Let the hunt begin!
**From Trish…I totally have this book (I’m pretty sure it’s the 70’s version…) and it’s my favorite book to read and I use different voices and I talk loud or soft as the writing warrants. LOVE IT.