Someone is a Big Girl all of a sudden. No, not me. I remain incompetent. Two nights ago, we thought we would add a second book to bedtime since we got a few for Festivus. A ybab pitched an unholy fit, so we stopped and went for trusty Goodnight Moon. She shrieked and squealed and was riveted as usual. Goodnight mush! No, I really mean it. You have a great night, mush. Who leaves mush out on a bedside table? That sounds like a recipe for botulism.
The next night, we explained that we’d still be reading Goodnight Moon after the new book. She grudgingly tolerated What Shall We Do With the Boo-Hoo Baby (Pickle her! String her up! It’s really hard not to editorialize.), but she also lolled back until she was totally upside down with her foot in her mouth. Then Mr. H picked up the other book and started to read the title. She popped straight up instantly and screeched with glee. I guess we have at least another 750 readings of Goodnight Moon left, each. I’ve tried sneaking in made up verses, and this also doesn’t fly. It wouldn’t be so bad if there weren’t one ridiculously showy identical rhyme. When we’re really vamping at the end, sometimes we read the ISBN and Canadian price.