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Anyone who has been following along with this blog for very long has probably noticed that I’m a ravenous reader with a love of words. Well, many of you have asked me a number of times to recommend different books in different genres, so I thought I would start giving you some lists now and then. And what better place to start than the beginning? Children’s picture books it is!

While growing up, our family entertainment and conversations revolved around books. When I think back on it, my brother and sister and I really didn’t have a choice but to love books. Both my parents love to read. My siblings and I were read to before we were even born. My Dad has always had an expansive vocabulary and didn’t tone it down just because he happened to be conversing with a five-year-old. You asked what a word meant, it was an automatic field trip to the giant unabridged Webster’s family dictionary.

Trips to the library were frequent and any attitude displayed toward a book short of reverence was found to be appalling behavior. Mom inundated us with fantastical hand-spun tales and made sure that we were surrounded by beautiful, irresistible picture books. By the time we were in middle school, Dad was reading us classics like The Hobbit, Robin Hood, and Ivanhoe. And we loved it! As children, our imaginations knew no limits and we read everything we could get our hands on. I want nothing less for my own children and have enjoyed reading them many of the same books that first sparked a life-long love of books in my own heart.

Here are a few of our family’s favorites, in alphabetical order…

1. Are You My Mother? by P.D. Eastman. This book is one that both Ken and I have fond memories of, and I adore hearing him read it to our children. In this lovable story, a mother bird leaves her egg in her nest to go look for food. While she’s gone, the egg hatches, and the baby bird wants to find his mother - but he doesn’t know what she looks like. His search leads him to ask a variety of animals and machines as he asks (which Ken reads in a high pitched baby bird voice), “Are you my mother?” Finally, a large mechanical crane deposits him back in his nest, where his mother is waiting with a happy ending. A bedtime favorite!

2. The Biggest Bear by Lynd Ward, is an under appreciated classic, in my opinion. It’s best for kids that are a bit older, as there is a hunting theme to the story, but there are are a number of things about the book that are quite rare — the artwork and the excellent moral being two. While the book focuses on a hunting family, it is a rather cunningly clever cautionary tale about the consequences of removing wild animals from their natural habitats and hunting without either purpose or necessity. In the story, Johnny decides his barn wall is scandalously deviod of hunting trophies and sets out to bring back the biggest bear anyone’s ever seen. What he comes back with though, is a baby bear cub. And a whole lot of trouble. The book has a decisive message about taking responsibility for your own actions and is filled cover to cover with exceptional artwork done entirely in beautiful black and white sketches of exceptional detail and expression.

3. Blueberries for Sal by Robert McCloskey. A timeless charmer. This one is an absolute must for anybody who has a child! Robert McCloskey’s artwork could tell the story all on it’s own, but he’s a gifted storyteller as well. In the book, Little Bear and Sal have an unexpected adventure when they go out blueberry picking with their mothers. This is one of the very first books I bought for my own children and it’s a delight to see them enjoy it just like I did at their age.

4. Corduroy by Don Freeman - One of the sweetest, most memorable teddy bears in history. Poor little Corduroy doesn’t understand why no one will buy him and bring him home from the department store. He decides it must be because his overalls are missing a button, so late one night he goes searching through the store for his button. He never finds his button, but a little girl falls in love with him anyway and brings him home. I love the quiet little moral in this story too — the little girl who wants to bring Corduroy home doesn’t throw a fit when her mother tells her she cannot buy the teddy bear the first day she sees him. She comes back the next day and buys him with her mother’s permission, and with money she has saved herself. It also carries the beautiful lesson of looking past the surface and seeing the potential inner beauty in a friend. An all around classic that we read often!

5. A Fly Went By by Mike McClintock. I just love the silliness of this story, the fun artwork, and the merry rhythm of the writing. A fly goes by, followed by a frog, who’s chased by a cat, who’s chased by a dog, and on and on. It never fails to leave my kiddos in delighted stitches and our bookshelf wouldn’t be complete without it.

6. Frog and Toad Are Friends by Arnold Lobel - This is a lovely collection of short stories with detailed, expressive artwork and endearing writing. Frog and Toad help each other write letters, go swimming, and search for lost buttons, always remaining the of best friends. Lots of humor and thoughtful examples of how to be a true friend. It is also a good early reader book too and it’s a favorite around here for sure.

7. The Giant Jam Sandwich by John Vernon Lord - This book is just pure fun! It’s a delightful story of how a small English town survives an attack of wasps by concocting a trap in the form of a giant jam sandwich. It’s told in a wonderfully wacky rhyme and the pictures are top notch. I first came to know the book through an episode of the kid’s TV show Captain Kangaroo back in the 70’s. My kids love this story every bit as much as I did!

8. Harry The Dirty Dog by Gene Zion. This story is just adorable! Harry the dog goes to great lengths to avoid his bath and gets into a bit of trouble as a result. Harry is a little mischievous and you just can’t help but fall in love with him. The book has oodles of old-fashioned charm and beautiful pen and ink, pastel-washed drawings.

9. The Lion’s Bed by Diane Redfield Massie. A silly and fun story that is perfect for bedtime. The local animals are horrified at the prospect of a lion moving to their part of the jungle, and devise a crafty plan. They set about building him a bed — but don’t plan on allowing him to get much sleep. Wonderful humor, of just the perfect sort for inspiring pint-sized giggles!

10. Mike Mulligan And His Steam Shovel by Virginia L. Burton. A must have picture book for a house containing little boys! This book is fun in both its storyline and its cheerful crayon drawings. It also teaches some lovely lessons about faithfulness and friendships as Mike Mulligan and his steam shovel, Mary Anne, dig their way to a surprising and happy ending.

11. The Mysterious Tadpole by Steven Kellog. One of my all-time favorite picture books from my own childhood. The story begins when Uncle McAllister sends a “wee bit of Scotland” (a tadpole found in Loch Ness) to Louis for his birthday. Louis names his new friend Alphonse and brings him to school for show-and-tell. A diet of cheeseburgers allows the creature to grow by leaps and bounds, and he soon outgrows his jar, the kitchen sink, and the bathtub. During summer vacation, Louis hides Alphonse in the high school’s swimming pool. He takes on a paper route to pay for his pet’s burger habit, and the local librarian comes to the rescue by suggesting sending Alphonse on a pirate treasure hunt in the bay. The treasure is found and the money is used to build Alphonse his very own swimming pool. As a child I just adored the hilarious illustrations and the incredibly kooky story - I love it still!

12. One Kitten For Kim by Adelaide Holl. Another of my favorites from my days spent watching ‘Captain Kangaroo.’ This is a funny and clever little story with adorable illustrations. Kim’s parents tell him he can keep only one kitten, but they don’t expect that he will then dispose of his six extra kittens by trading them to the neighbors for other pets. My daughter has already put many more miles on my worn and tattered copy that barely survived my own childhood.

13. One Morning In Maine Robert McCloskey. My mom can probably still recite this book in her sleep. I had her read it that often. This is McCloskey’s adorable sequel to Blueberries for Sal. In this story, Sal has grown up quite a bit and loses her first tooth, digs for clams and crosses from her island home to the mainland in a motorboat. At the end of the tale, Sal and her family return home by motorboat, to eat “CLAM CHOWDER FOR LUNCH!” I always used to demand that the last sentence be read with the proper enthusiastic volume — it’s my daughter’s favorite part of the book too, and I love to watch her barely contained excitement as the last pages are turned.

14. Puppy Pie by Williams Jay. I don’t have a photo for this one and it’s actually quite a rare book these days. If you know what you’re looking for and you’re quite lucky, you might stumble across a perfect copy for a few dollars in a used bookstore run by an un-attentive owner like my sister did. Or you might luck out like I did and snatch up a copy for three dollars plus shipping on ebay (well, if you call it luck after two solid years of carefully watching for it). Or you might just decide to pay the going rate of $50 for an antique copy, which it is decidedly worth if you have the money for such things. This is a beautiful book and a delightful story! It’s about a little girl and her love for pies which leads to a pie being made for her birthday party instead of a cake. However, she doesn’t want her puppy to feel left out, so she makes a pie for her puppy as well, filled with puppy food… and inevitably the pies get mixed up. An all around perfect children’s book filled with beautiful black and white illustrations.

15. The Saggy Baggy Elephant by Kathryn Jackson. One of those lovely little Golden Books! Sooki, the baby elephant has saggy baggy skin, and he feels funny-looking and all alone, until he meets a group of elephants who look just like him. I have always loved the richly hued artwork in this book and its beautiful story about finding one’s place in the world.

16. Sam And The Firefly By P.D. Eastman - I think my Mom must have become rather weary of reading this book at some point as well. When I first read it to my daughter, I discovered that I still knew the book by heart. This is a funny little story about Sam, the owl, teaching Gus, the mischievous firefly, to write words in the sky. Chaos ensues as cars crash, movies are free, and hot dogs are cold. It has a good moral to the story and lots of laughs along the way. And the illustrations are adorable!

17. The Story of Little Babaji by Helen Bannerman. I love this beautiful book, and I couldn’t even begin to guess how many times I have read it to my daughter. The watercolor artwork is lovely and the story is too. Clever little Babaji goes for a walk in the jungle, proudly displaying his fine new clothes. During his outing, he meets several hungry tigers and to avoid being eaten, Babaji flatters each tiger into taking a piece of his clothing instead. Babaji outwits the vain beasts, recovers his clothes, and has tiger butter with his pancake dinner. (Note: The story was originally titled The Story of Little Black Sambo, back in 1899. The original story clearly took place in India (with its tigers and “ghi,” or melted butter), even though the names the author gave her characters belied that setting. In this new edition, the little boy, his mother, and his father have all been given authentic Indian names: Babaji, Mamaji, and Dadaji. And Marcellino’s illustrations are unmistakably Indian in every detail.)

18. The Sweet Touch by Lorna Balian. You know that one magical story from childhood that just captured every ounce of your imagination? This was that story for me. I think I had it checked out from the library for a year solid before Mom finally bought me my own copy. I then proceeded to love the cover clear off of it. In the story, a little girl named Peggy is disappointed after receiving a plastic ring from a gumball machine instead of a gumball. Her glumness turns to glee when she finds that rubbing the ring releases a baby genie who can grant her one wish. Peggy wishes for ‘The Sweet Touch’ and is overjoyed by all the candy that keeps appearing around her, until she gets a tummy ache and wants the genie to turn off the wish. But the genie is only a baby and hasn’t yet learned how to turn off wishes — Mommy genie to the rescue! The new edition has been re-colorized, and for my part, I like the old version better. In the old version, the only parts in color were the items turned to candy in the wish, which added to the magic of the tale. I recommend looking for a vintage copy — and treasuring it.

19. The Tale of Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter. “Once upon a time there were four little Rabbits, and their names were — Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-Tail, and Peter…” How many times I have heard that line read! I remember darting into the local library as fast as four-year-old legs could carry me and making a bee-line for the long row of mini-sized books bound up in the deepest shade of green. Jemimah Puddle Duck, The Tale of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle… every tiny book filled with magical pictures and captivating stories! I’ll likely never be over my love affair with Beatrix Potter and the wonderful memories from childhood I have of her stories. (If you’re unfamiliar with Beatrix Potter, do be aware that not all of her tales are purely cute and cuddly… you might want to give them a quick read first and decide if your kiddo is ready for some of them. A number of the tales have rather realistic hunter-prey interactions between some of her animal characters.)

20. Terry and The Caterpillars by Millicent E. Selsam - Another book that I nearly loved to death. In this smart little book, a little girl named Terry catches three caterpillars. She is surprised and delighted as she learns to care for them and watches their transformation into moths. This book fascinated me as a child and I spent many hours chasing caterpillars and butterflies as a direct result. I love books like this that show the fun side of science and it has been a joy to share this book with my daughter.

And there you have it — our family’s ‘Top Twenty’ classic children’s picture books. I hope they bring your family as much pleasure as they have brought to ours!

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Image Courtesy Istock Photo

Jacqui: Mom, I needta tell you somefing… Da kitchens and bafrooms are da germiest places in da house. You need da cleenin’ power, Mom.

Me: I do?

Jacqui: Yes, to get rid of da germies.

Me: It gets rid of germs?

Jacqui: Oh, yes! An’ da scoap scrum an nascee snackterias in da baff tub too.

Me: Soap scum and nasty bacteria? Well we certainly don’t want any of those.

Jacqui: Well… I hate ta tell you dis, but I fink I found some ub dem in da bafroom.

Me: You did?

Jacqui: *Sigh* Yes! Dat’s why I was tellin’ you dat you need da cleanin’ power stuff.

Me: Oh, I see. What is the cleaning power stuff?

Jacqui: Oh, I dunno. Some lady on TV poured some yellow stuff in a big green bucket wen Daddy was watchin’ TV. It’s posed to be da cleanin’ power dat chases all dat yucky germie stuff away. It looked yuckier dan da scroap scrummies and snackterias, if ya ask me.

Cleaning tips from a five-year-old… fabulous. Excuse me while I locate the disinfectant…

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For our first edition here, let’s just get acquainted. In whatever format you choose, write a post sharing who you are, the basics of your child’s story and one thing that really stood out to you from your child’s first major hospital or medical experience and why. (For carnival rules and information click here.)

Jacqui’s Story

So much was riding on that one day — all of our dreams, years of heartbroken prayers, hopes still fragile from years of infertility and repetitive miscarriage. It was all coming down to this one sunny day in September, and we wondered as we drove to the hospital that morning how it would end. We cried through the entire thirty minute drive to the hospital, not knowing if we were going to be saying hello or goodbye. Would we hear her cry? Would she need to have a trach? Would she breathe at all? Would we get to hold her? What if…? But I couldn’t bear to finish the thought of my worst fear.

Months earlier we had learned the devastating news on an early ultrasound. Our baby had a large mass on the right side of her face and neck. Opinions were mixed on the actual diagnosis. Originally we were told that we would likely miscarry, that she probably had Turner’s Syndrome. That she might have Down’s Syndrome, Trisomy 18, or a host of other complications that we lost much sleep over. Later we were told that the mass was a teratoma and that she would likely die at birth or during a surgery to attempt to secure an airway. We were pressed to consider ‘termination’ or at the very least, an amnio. We adamantly refused both. We began fighting to find a perinatologist who cared whether she survived and found one a three hour drive away. A complex birth plan and monitoring system was put into place to give her the best odds possible for her survival. A modified EXIT procedure would be performed in an attempt to make sure she had a secure airway throughout the birth.

In the OR suite, I lost count of the number of medical personnel in the room at somewhere over twenty. There was the perinatologist’s team, a surgical team, an ENT surgeon and his team, a respiratory therapy team, a NICU team… and probably others. I felt conflicting emotions of resentment over the number of people in the room (mostly because this birth was so different than we had hoped) and overwhelming gratitude that so many people were there to help try and keep our baby safe. And I started to quietly cry when they told me they were starting the delivery, wishing I could keep her safe just a little longer, hoping — praying that she wasn’t about to die.

I remember hearing a funny little squeak, and wondering what it was. I looked up from my white knuckles to Ken’s awestruck face that suddenly burst into a mile-wide grin. That sound had been our baby’s first beautiful cry. Her second attempt was loud and long. They held her up for a moment for me to get my first glimpse of her. I laughed as tears rained down my cheeks and Ken joyously whooped, “Do you hear her, honey? She made it! She’s OK!”

Then the room was a bustle of serious, purposeful activity. I watched from an aching distance while they intubated her as a precaution, and started an IV. Ken whispered reassuringly in her newborn ears as she tightly gripped his finger. They wheeled her over for a moment and I got to stare into her bottomless ocean-blue eyes and whisper, “I love you, Jacqui…” before they whisked her off to the NICU.

Much of the rest of our hospital stay was a blur. Back and forth trips to the NICU, several floors away from my room. Waiting for what seemed like forever as she endured a CT scan and an MRI before we learned that her mass was a lymphatic malformation, and something that we would not be able to medically address until she was at least six months old. The moment of elation when they took her off of the ventilator and she breathed on her own. Struggling through the paradox of being told we couldn’t remove her from the NICU until she could eat on her own while the nurses stuffed her with tube feedings under medical orders. Worrying over her very scary breathing pattern.

Her breathing. That is the one thing that stood out to me more than anything during that first hospital experience. It was so labored sounding. She snored and often stopped breathing all together, resuming only after she was jostled. I was afraid to leave her in the NICU, but they did have her hooked up to a cardiac monitor. I asked the attending physician about it and he told me there was no cause for worry. That newborns often sounded like that. She was just “junky” from the birth and it would clear up in a few days. A dark cloud of doubt gathered in my heart as I cautiously sat back to watch and wait.

When it was time to go home, her breathing hadn’t improved. She scared me. I was afraid I would fall asleep and she would stop breathing and never wake up. I asked the attending to send her home with an apnea monitor. He refused. Flat out emphatically refused. Even when I tried to press the matter. Said she was fine and that she didn’t need one. I asked if the lymphatic malformation could swell up like lymph nodes do if she caught a cold. He shook his head no. Told me I was worrying too much, but something in his eyes as he said it unsettled me. He left and I tried to pinpoint what it was about the conversation that bothered me. The substance of it flitted just out of reach from my sleep-deprived brain. In my arms, Jacqui sputtered and stopped breathing for the hundredth time. I jostled her and she inhaled raggedly. “What if…,” my heart whispered, “What if he’s sending her home with you to die?” I went cold. Numb with fear. Then I flashed white hot with determination. Not if I could help it.

After we got home, we took shifts sitting up with Jacqui keeping her breathing until our appointment with her pediatrician the next day. As we walked into the office the next morning I whispered to Ken, “We come home with an apnea monitor, or not at all.” We got our apnea monitor.

One week later, that apnea monitor saved her life. Jacqui caught her first cold virus. In the middle of the night, her lymphatic malformation began rapidly swelling and shutting off her airway, just as I had feared it might. Her heart rate monitor alerted us and we got her to the local ER just in time to intubate her before her airway was completely shut off by the swelling.

Jacqui spent the next nine weeks in the NICU. Six weeks on a ventilator. She had a tracheostomy. A G-tube placement. MRI’s, CT scans, IV and PICC line placements, CT guided injection therapy of her lymphatic malformation. A host of heroic and horrific experiences that no newborn should ever have to endure. That no parent should ever have to watch.

And it was just beginning.

Jacqui is five now. She’s been under anesthesia for various surgeries and procedures twenty-five times now. Twenty-five, and I know in my heart there will be more. And it never gets easier. And I worry. I worry whether we have made the right choices for her, whether tomorrow will bring some new hardship for her to endure.

But mostly I’m grateful. Grateful that for some reason that I still fail to comprehend, God chose us. For some reason, He believed we were the right parents for this amazing little girl. It humbles me. Inspires me to live up to that sacred trust we have been given. Because of her, our life is filled with a joy all the more precious for the sorrow we have known through her. And in those moments where I long to completely give up, I remember that she was a gift. A gift that I was entrusted with. She is counting on me and I refuse to fail her.

What About You? Tell Me Your Child’s Story…

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Why, yes — as a matter of fact, she did choose the outfit herself. How did you ever guess?

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