My daughter is a fan of reading.

I say “reading”, what I mean is making up stories and listening to me reading to her. Frog is approaching three and a half and is starting to remember which letters make which sounds. If she’s anything like her mum, then I have no doubt she will be an avid reader once she grasps what the squiggly lines on the page mean.

Before we relocated to South Devon at the beginning of the school holidays, we had a major sort through the books on Frog’s shelves. She still had lots of baby cardboard books which she no longer looked at. Some of her books were just a bit naff, while others were so worn they needed mending.

One of the first places we discovered in our current home town was the library. We make a fortnightly trip there to swap books and Frog loves that she has her very own library card.

The books she is currently loving are:

My mum bought The Day The Crayons Quit (by Drew Daywalt and Oliver Jeffers) as a present for Frog, to celebrate her first day at pre-school. She’d read a review in The Guardian and instantly knew her granddaughter would love it. My mum wasn’t wrong. It’s funny, creative, beautifully illustrated and couldn’t be further removed from your boring old princess stories.

Second up is the stunning The Little Girl Who Lost Her Name. I was sent this book to review and when I opened the parcel I literally gasped. The whole book has been personalised with Frog’s name and it’s really helped her to learn the letters that spell her name. Created by a three dads and an uncle, you can tell the book has been designed by a team who know about kids. You can buy a book featuring any child’s name and, if you’re looking for a quirky and special present this Christmas, I urge you to think about investing in one of these books!

We discovered Barney Saltzberg about a year ago with his book Arlo’s Glasses. Back then, Frog was obsessed with reading the book and taking out the removable glasses, that it got terribly battered. A Little Bit of Oomph is based on a similar pop-out design, with bright colours and bold patterns. In fact, if you like design you will LOVE this book. The story is based around the idea that you can make anything shine that bit brighter if you work at it, which I think is a pretty lovely lesson. And for a three year old who likes funny words, funny faces and vivid colours, it has gone down a treat.

Last on our list of current reading favourites are The Black and White Club (by Alice Hemming) and Miss Dorothy Jane Was Ever So Vain (by Julie Fulton), which we were sent for review. Both these books are funny and carry a sweet message. They’re really easy to read and I think Frog loves them so much because they’re like the book version of comfort food. She often requests one or the other at bedtime, which is rather sweet really.

What are your children reading at the moment? Any good books we should add to our reading list? 

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It’s fair to say we’re a bookish family. At least, I am bookish and my daughter is bookish, but my husband prefers films and computer games, only picking up reading material on a beach when there’s “nothing else to do”. Anyway, this post isn’t about encouraging a 32 year old man to read, it’s about toddlers.

So.

We were sent a bundle of books to review by Maverick Books recently. It’s one of those parcels that you just don’t open right before bedtime, because the excitement is sure to mean a hyper two year old who will not sleep before 8pm. Did I mention that she LOVES books?

As much as she loves books, she loves the books she knows and isn’t much interested in the ones she doesn’t. It tends to take a week or two of a book being on her shelf before my daughter will deign to pick it up. And she’s VERY particular about her bedtime reading. This is the reason that tonight has been the first evening where we’ve actually sat down and read the books sent to us.

Tonight’s bedtime was accompanied by The Jelly That Wouldn’t Wobble, written by Angela Mitchell and The Fearsome Beasite, written by Giles Paley-Phillips.

Both books grabbed Frog’s attention for the entire duration, to the extent that she asked for them again when we’d finished. She’s the master of delaying tactics at bedtime.

The Jelly That Wouldn’t Wobble is a fun book about (you can guess) a jelly that wouldn’t wobble. The elderly and diva-like princess is the star of the book, shouting at the overworked chef to sort the problem before she banishes his creation to a punishment of melting.

Frog loved the bright, colourful pictures in the book and laughed along with the “Wibble, wobble” type of language. Being a fan of jelly, she just couldn’t understand why it wouldn’t wobble.

Secretly, I was a bit disappointed the stubborn jelly was duped into wobbling and being eaten at the end, as I rather liked his fighting spirit. Frog disagreed though, rubbing her belly with a “Yum, yum” at the end.

The Fearsome Beastie came next. This is a book not for the faint-hearted, so I wouldn’t recommend it for kids with a more sensitive disposition. About a (again, you can guess) “fearsome beastie” that lives in a cave and comes out at night hunting for children, it has shades of the Three Little Pigs about it. After scoffing a few gullible children, he meets his end when a no-nonsense granny comes to the rescue with an axe, freeing the kids from his tummy and turning him into stew.

Now, my daughter’s only two years old and has been known to be a bit of a scaredy cat at times. She cowers at all manner of things, but shouts with glee in equal measure at others. In short, her scaredy quirks are unpredictable. What I think she won’t like, she often loves with a passion.

This book is one of them.

As I read the words to her and showed her the dark picture of the menacing beastie, her eyes lit up. I think she quite liked him actually. She thought the idea of gran coming to the rescue absolutely hilarious and asked me to explain why HER “Mar Mar” doesn’t make beastie stew.

I guess it goes to show that with books and encouraging young kids to read, often anything goes. Afterall, what does mum know anyway?

***

We were sent these books for the purpose of this review. Please see my disclosure page for more information.

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The post Silent Sunday appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

It’s all to do with the bedtime. Frog was given some books for her 1^st birthday, you see. Special books. Books which have an important place in my own childhood.

I’ve already banged on about how there’s been a story before bed since Frog was about four months old. Up until now, it’s always been the same one: Bedtime with Humphrey.

Don’t get me wrong. Humphrey’s a lovely little elephant and all that. But nine months of him is enough for anyone. By my calculations, we’ve read this book at least 270 times – I now know it off by heart. So it was time for a change.

After nearly two weeks of hell at bedtime, with Frog refusing to give in and go to sleep, preferring to shout and scream and wail in a (rather overly dramatic fashion) “Mamamamama”, I thought I’d bring a bit of Dogger to the bedtime table.

For those of you unfamiliar with children’s books, this isn’t some kind of seedy story about the act of driving to unfamiliar country roads to watch strangers do naughty things to each other (read: Dogging for that).

It’s a gorgeous book by Shirley Hughes about a boy who loses his favourite toy. I won’t spoil the ending, but if you grew up in the late 70s or 80s, you’ll probably know it anyway.

And just like magic, after an evening of Humphrey (we’re not quite ready to completely let go yet) and Dogger, Frog went to sleep. No tears. No dramatic wails. Just quiet thumb-sucking and blissful sleep.

So the next night we tried a bit of Peace At Last, another one of my childhood favourites. And what do you know? Result.

Tonight we’re going to introduce the Ahlberg’s classic Peepo! And there’s a whole list of other old faithfuls waiting in line after that.

But you can never have too many books. So what were your favourite childhood reads? Maybe I’ll add them to Frog’s bedtime reading list – we’re still looking for one to knock Humphrey off the top spot.

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Bear with me, it’s important. (Frog’s Northern Granny says so and you don’t want to mess with her – she’s a librarian).

Now, unless you’ve been abroad for a year or living in a hole somewhere, you might have gathered there’s been a bit of a fuss about libraries recently. Back in February, there were a load of very civilized “Read-ins”, where people went and sat in their local library reading books for a day. While it all sounds rather relaxing, they were actually making a very important point: libraries are under threat and we need to start showing we care about them.

The thing is, it doesn’t end there.

You might not know about it, but the Government’s reviewing a raft of duties that local authorities legally have to stick to. The Public Libraries and Museums Act of 1964 is one of them. This is the law that says local authorities have to provide a comprehensive and efficient public library service. In plain English, it means the likes of you and me get free access to decent books as well as all the other things that libraries do nowadays.

For mums like me, I’m talking about rhyme times and story sessions for our babies. Not the expensive ones you have to pay for, but the free ones, which are accessible to everyone.

When I was tiny, my mum and I used to go to the library a lot. We would sit and read a whole range of books for an entire afternoon. It was a treat, something I looked forward to and got excited about. It wasn’t that we couldn’t afford to buy our own books, we had a house full of them. But in the library, there were whole shelves of new stories. Ones I’d never read before. And if I was really lucky, there would be a story time, where an old woman would read to us and we’d have a little sing-song. As a three year old, this was my version of a Take That concert.

Then I grew up and went to university. And the library once again became my friend. When I was back home and needed to research an essay or do some background reading, I knew I could pop along to the local library and pick up a book. It was a given. Easy.

And then I became a mum. Once again I turned to the library. Not to read up on anything this time, but to have a reason to get out of the house. I took my baby to rhyme time sessions and sing-along time. All free. Unlike the many other activities we do together.

But it looks like history won’t be repeated. When my daughter turns three, I won’t get to take her to the library. We won’t get to find a quiet corner and read some new books. She won’t get a mini Take That concert in the form of a sing-along session. Because the libraries are going.

Unless we do something about it.

Remember The Public Libraries and Museums Act I was banging on about just now? This is the law that says councils have a legal duty to provide library services. Well the Government wants to find out if we think this still stands. Should councils still have to provide libraries? Are they needed, or are they a “burden” (their words, not mine).

If you want to speak up, all you have to do is fill in a form which takes all of two minutes. There are more details here.

If you think this doesn’t affect you, think again. False Economy recently published a map showing all the cuts and proposed cuts to libraries around the UK. The chances are you’ll see a red mark where you live.

So please make Frog’s Northern Granny proud. Fill in that form and tell them you want to keep the libraries. For your children. And your children’s children. And your children’s children’s children. (I could go on, but you get where I’m going with this).

Frog + book = happy baby

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Bookfrog

Call me an over-eager mum, but I love reading to my baby. I have done since she was about four days old. Maybe it’s because I had a bedtime story every night as a child, maybe it’s because I still love to read now. Or maybe it’s just that I like the sound of my own voice and having a baby is the perfect excuse to talk to someone who can’t tell me to shut up.

The poor girl never had a chance. Coming from a family of English teachers, Librarians, Journalists and Drama teachers, it’s fair to say Literature is in her genes (although we won’t count her computer game addict father whose idea of a good book is the autobiography of Chopper Reid, the famous Australian vigilante. Google him. Seriously scary).

From the day we brought Frog home from the hospital we decided to include a bedtime story as part of her night routine. Admittedly, at a week old she was very rude and slept through the whole thing, but I carried on with the stories, because I enjoyed finding out what happened at the end for myself.

I didn’t have the foggiest idea that reading to a baby is good for them, I just guessed it couldn’t be bad. But the research shows I’m not as stupid as I may have thought, because reading to a baby does have its benefits. Studies have shown that language skills are related to how many words an infant hears each day. In one study, children whose parents spoke to them a lot scored higher on standard tests when they reached age 3, compared to those whose mums and dads weren’t so verbal. And you can’t deny it, reading is a good way of talking to your baby, if general chit chat makes you feel like a bit of a plum.

But not all babies and children get read to, even if they would probably rather like it. We take access to books for granted, although with looming closures of many libraries maybe we shouldn’t. But, while we have to contend with library closures, in many parts of the world, some children have not even seen a book, let alone a library. It’s World Book Day on 3^rd March and Book Aid International hopes to change this, in sub-Saharan Africa at least. If you have a minute, check out their blog and watch the video. If you question the power of books and reading, this may clear a few things up.

At nearly eight months, Frog now reaches for the pictures in her storybooks. She loves the sparkly fish in Little Fish Goes Exploring and laughs out loud when we read Dear Zoo. Her bedtime story has been the same one for the last five months, Bedtime with Humphrey, and now she won’t go to sleep without it. It’s a good way for her Dad and Grandparents to bond with her too, although I’m starting to detect a hint of boredom from her Dad when Humphrey comes out again, given away by his renaming of “Humphrey” to “Humphreyfina” (this is from the man who said he wanted to call his daughter Geoffafine because he likes the name Geoffrey so much).

Regardless of the ad-libbing, we will continue to read to Frog until she tells us to shut up, which I hope won’t be for a while yet. At least not until we’ve got to The Very Hungry Caterpillar. And Doctor Dog. And The Secret Garden. Oh, and Harry Potter. And The Gruffalo. And George’s Marvellous Medicine. And don’t forget The BFG. And Giraffe’s Can’t Dance. And Peace At Last.. And…………………………..

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Other brands of tissue are available

Is it just me, or do all women become a gibbering wreck after having a baby?

I am no exception. I’ve always been a bit of a cryer, but it’s got completely out of control since the birth of baby Frog.

I finished an amazing book last night (Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go) and was almost hysterical by the end. It’s the saddest, most thought-provoking book I’ve read in a long time.

Now, I’m not saying I wouldn’t have cried at this before Frog was born. I probably would have had a little sniffle. Maybe a few gentle tears. But not the chest-wracking, snot-inducing, puffy-face stuff of last night.

I don’t know what it is about having a baby, but any slightly emotional thing now seems so horrendously distressing, I’m too scared to even turn on the TV. The Corrie tram crash episodes had me wailing like a banshee. I was utterly distraught after Ringo died on Neighbours. And don’t even get me started on the “Are You Really My Dad” episode on Jeremy Kyle the other day. I needed to do some deep breathing into a paper bag just to regain my composure. (No judgements about my taste in TV by the way, that is a whole other post).

Maybe it’s still the hormones (although how long I can keep blaming them is anyone’s guess), maybe it’s the fact I can empathise more now with situations involving children and parents. Or maybe seven months of little sleep has left me constantly on the edge of tears anyway.

Whatever it is, I better grow out of it before Frog’s first day of school. Even a paper bag won’t bring me round from that one.

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