What Fairy Tales Can Teach Kids

But Make It Quick; Long Fairy Tales Tend to Dragon.

Lesson: even a prince can
infect you with warts.

My friend Didianne - mother of three and devotee of the Steiner-Waldorf educational methodology - is a great proponent of the oral tradition of fairy tales as a teaching mechanism. Listening to fairy tales, she says, sharpens a child’s visualization, memory, and pattern and symbol recognition skills - all of which contribute to writing and reading readiness.

But some parents in our social circle object to fairy tales: the stories are too violent, gruesome, scary, riddled with pain and suffering... and sometimes have unhappy endings.

“Sometimes life has unhappy endings,” Didanne typically responds. “But life is also full of love, loyalty, courage, and hopefully a little magic. I want my children to be aware of both ends of the spectrum through the safety of a story.”

I’m in Didianne’s camp. If listening to fairy tales - or any narrative story - makes learning more fun than rote memorization and boosts my preschoolers’ pre-literacy skills, then I’ll tell a tale any time.

Another concept to keep in mind: in addition to safely introducing the concept of “good vs. evil,” fairy tales are rife with safety, moral, lifestyle, hygiene, travel, and even legal and construction lessons. It’s never too early to share those best practices with your children.

Need a refresher on some popular fairy tales? Feel free to use the following crib notes (no pun intended) for your teaching moments.

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GOLDILOCKS AND THE THREE BEARS

Trespassers come in
all shapes, sizes, and
hair colors.

Synopsis: Three anthropomorphic bears leave their hot breakfast on the table during their daily constitutional. While they’re away, an interloper named Goldilocks trespasses onto the bears’ property, eats their food, vandalizes their furniture, and sleeps in their beds until the bears return home.

Lessons:

• Lock your doors and set the security system when leaving your house.
• Never leave food unattended; you never know what pests will buzz in.
• Traveling in bear country? Four words: bear deterrent pepper spray.
• If you must play dead near a bear, don’t do it on the bear’s mattress.

(Note to parents: use your child’s reaction to this tale as an early indicator of his/her disciplinary issues later - if she’s horrified at Goldilocks’ antics, then you’ve got a rule-follower like my daughters; if he gets a wicked gleam in his eye while imagining the possibilities of unsupervised time in someone else’s abode, then brace yourself for future boundary-pusher like my son.)

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THE THREE LITTLE PIGS

Synopsis: Three pig brothers build their respective houses out of natural materials. A hungry wolf with a large lung capacity is refused admittance, and resentfully destroys the first two houses. The surviving pigs flee to the third pig’s house. When the wolf pulls a Santa-down-the-chimney stunt, the pigs respond with a cauldron of boiling water.

Lessons:

• Always be prepared to defend against (or flee from) a hungry home invader.
• Use quality building materials.
• Follow the building codes - they exist for good reasons.
• Don’t underestimate the home court advantage.
• Move in with your smart brother.

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JACK AND THE BEANSTALK

What if Jack had - gulp -
eaten the beans?!

Synopsis: Jack trades his family’s cow (for once, a non-anthropomorphic beast) for a huckster’s genetically mutated beans. Overnight, from the beans springs forth a skyscraper of a bean stalk. Jack climbs it to the lair of a giant with a keen sense of smell for Englishmen and no sense of iambic pentameter. When Jack is in danger of becoming the key ingredient in the giant's bread dough, Mrs. Giant pities him and helps distract her giant husband from his boy-hunt. Jack repays her kindness by stealing the giants’ bag of gold, golden-egg-laying poultry, and a magic harp. The giant chases Jack, but meets a tragic end when Jack chops down the beanstalk.

Lessons:

• You can score good deals from street vendors.
• Genetic engineering can produce sustainable agriculture.
• Wear deodorant when you go visiting.
• Get on and stay on the lady of the house’s good side.
• Claim self-defense when you kill the livid home owner who chases you after you’ve robbed him blind.

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LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD

Synopsis: Little Red Riding Hood sets off alone through the forest to deliver a basket of food to her ill grandmother. A wily wolf persuades her to detour (in spite her mother’s strict instructions not to do so), and then beats her to Grandma’s house where he devours Grandma, dresses in her clothes, and hops into her bed. Red finally appears, and while she remarks on the wolf’s big facial features, he eats her, too. Satiated, he sleeps. When a suspicious huntsman disembowels the wolf, Red and Grandma spring out whole (much like Athena from Zeus’ head, except without the Parthenon). They wreak vengeance by filling the wolf’s stomach with stones.

Lessons:

• Don’t talk to strangers.
• Directions provided by “helpful” strangers may not be so helpful. Use Google Maps instead.
• Follow Mom's instructions! If she tells you not to stray from the path, then do not bloody stray from the bloody path.
• Lock your doors, even when you’re home.
• Remember the peep hole in your front door? Use it.
• Chew your food thoroughly, because if you swallow it whole, you’ll never know when it’ll come back to haunt you.

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HANSEL AND GRETEL

Imagine the ant and roach
problems the witch
must've had.  Ewww.

Synopsis: Afraid that their father and stepmother will abandon them to die in the forest, Hansel and Gretel leave a trail of breadcrumbs to mark their path back home. But the birds eat the crumbs, so Hansel and Gretel wander, lost and starving, until they stumble upon a full-scale gingerbread house, fabulously decorated with candies and frosting. Delicious! The home owner - a cannibalistic witch - captures Hansel to fatten him up for dinner . When the witch tries to trick Gretel into climbing into the hot oven - thereby becoming a Gretel hors d’oeuvre - Gretel shoves the witch inside instead. Good-bye, witch. Hello, witch’s treasure!

Lessons:

• Don’t hike in a dangerous forest with someone who hates you.
• Got an evil stepmother and a lily-livered father? Keep the Child Protective Services hotline number handy.
• A compass and topographical map trump breadcrumbs for navigating your way through the wilderness.
• If it looks too good to be true (e.g., a lifetime supply of free candy), then it is too good to be true.
• Crawling into large kitchen appliances is a bad idea.

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BUT SERIOUSLY, FOLKS

For a change of pace from the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen, try The Outspoken Princess and the Gentle Knight. Jack Zipes has edited this anthology of “modern fairy tales” written by the likes of Ernest Hemingway, A.S. Byatt, and Jane Yolen. These fifteen stories reflect more modern views of gender roles, democracy, and violence within the classic fairy tale themes of love, courage, and good versus evil.

Happy storytelling!

“Life itself is the most wonderful fairy tale of all.” - Hans Christian Andersen (1805-1875)

*** Stay tuned for the February 15 blog: "Glossary of Realtor Terms ("I know that you believe you understand what you think I said, but I'm not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant')." ***

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Reading Grown-Up Books

What a Novel Idea.

Bespectacled, wrinkled,
sleepy, prone to grumpiness
and drooling, reading
- meet my doppelganger.

I kid you not: today, I read Green Eggs and Ham aloud 9¼ consecutive times. To break the Sam-I-am monotony, round number 5 started with a faux British accent, but both kids chastised me for “reading different” and demanded we start all over again (hence the ¼ round). By round 9¼, my eyes were threatening to cross permanently, and so I begged off the book.

Of course, the kids took pity... by choosing another book. I lost count of how many times we read The Cat in the Hat with nary a fake accent. And then Horton Hatches the Egg. (I’ve now got a love-hate thing for Dr. Seuss.)

Yes, my kids and I got in some quality bonding time. Yes, children learn through repetition. Yes, cultivating pre-literacy is vital during those early childhood years.

And YES, mommies of repetition-addicted toddlers and preschoolers need to cleanse our reading palates occasionally... even if our only chance to read non-kiddie stuff during the day is while standing over the stove, waiting for the pasta water to boil.

May I share some book suggestions for your next grown-up reading session? Think of the following paragraphs as a virtual book club: reading recommendations and discussion, without snooty literati or bad hors d’oeuvres! (I’d offer more titles, but we only eat pasta once per week.)

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HISTORICAL (HYSTERICAL) ROMANCE

Even if your mate is Prince Charming, you need an occasional bodice-ripper because fantasy is fun. Think of it as a mental staycation. Save the Stephen Hawking book for another time; instead, pick up a Regency or Victorian historical romance and indulge that Anglophile itch that 9¼ readings of Jemima Puddle-Duck simply cannot scratch.

Celeste Bradley’s Duke Most Wanted fits the bill. Here, gawky, flat-chested, and feisty Sophie leverages the free services of a London haute couture designer to transform herself into the elegant but still feisty Sofia. (“Free” and “haute couture” in the same sentence: how’s that for fantasy?) Sofia then attempts to woo her best male friend: a self-confessed reprobate who suddenly becomes a duke when his drunken father and brothers perish at the feet of a rampaging elephant.

See why I call it a hysterical romance?

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ROMANCE SANS RAMPAGING ELEPHANT

Sad, but true: in my sophomore world literature class, Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice wowed the girls and rendered the boys comatose. Who wanted to be as witty and feisty as Elizabeth Bennet? Party with a haughty yet handsome Mr. Darcy? Live in a crib as righteously gnarly as Pemberley? Who had a sibling as unbearable as Lydia Bennet? And a frenemy as obnoxious as Caroline Bingley? We girls, that’s who.

Read (or reread) Pride and Prejudice to appreciate the real standout of the story: Elizabeth’s mom. Deliciously ridiculous, Mrs. Bennet gossips, frets, and schemes in her quest to marry her daughters off to single men in possession of a good fortune. No matter how much our real mothers embarrassed us in public - and at age fifteen, it doesn’t take much - we took comfort in knowing Mrs. Bennet’s escapades trumped them all.

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LOVE AMIDST ULTRAVIOLENT ZOMBIE MAYHEM

As feisty as we find Elizabeth Bennet in the original Pride and Prejudice, now imagine her with a samurai sword and throwing stars! Seth Grahame-Smith mixes Jane Austen’s text with random attacks from “unmentionables” (i.e., zombies, not ladies’ underwear), and seasons it liberally with wacky Mystery Science Theatre 3000-style humor to produce Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

England is overrun by a scourge of the undead. The Bennet sisters have mastered the art of deadly combat. Longbourn sports a dojo. Lady Catherine de Bourgh commands a ninja army. And Mr. Darcy is haughty yet handsome - and an expert zombie slayer. Will true love rise above the carnage?

Your husband may lose consciousness when you try discussing Pride and Prejudice, but when you start laughing aloud during your Pride and Prejudice and Zombies reading, he’ll put down the TV remote and scuttle over to check out what’s so bleeping funny. Guaranteed.

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CAN UNDERWEAR BE UNCOMFORTABLE? OF CORSET CAN.

Remember your nine-year-old self? Did you inhale Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House books? Were you and your friends united in your admiration for feisty, petticoated Laura? Did you wish you could run barefoot on the prairie and eat griddle cakes around a campfire? Did you think Nellie Oleson a blight on the face of this green earth?

Reconnect with your inner nine-year-old: borrow a fourth grader’s copy of Little House on the Prairie and transport yourself to a time when life seemed simpler - stewed jack rabbit with white-flour dumplings was “an especially good supper,” while good little girls found a tin cup and a shiny new penny - how thrilling! - in their stockings on Christmas morning.

And now that you’re a mom, you’ll also be extra thankful that you live in the age of the iPhone and mocha frappuccino, instead of what Laura’s mom Caroline endured: whalebone corsets, starched (!!) nightgowns, shock absorber-less covered wagon travel, and prairie fire battles while armed with nothing but a wet gunny sack. Indomitable? You betcha. Gimme 9¼ rounds of Green Eggs and Ham over frontier malaria any day.

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THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT POTTERING WITH POISONS THAT CLARIFIES THE MIND

There’s not a corset or petticoat to be had in Alan Bradley’s The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie.

Meet eleven year old Flavia de Luce: precocious, incorrigible, clever, feisty, and passionate about chemistry - especially poisons. If she had had the misfortune of Nellie Oleson’s acquaintance, you can be sure she’d spike Nellie’s lipstick with pentadecyclcatechol (poison ivy to us mortals), instead of luring her into a pond of leeches like Miss Ingalls.

When the constabulary arrests Flavia’s widowed father for murder, Flavia leaps into action to hunt down the real murderer. She’s packing a fierce mixture of intelligence and determination, plus enough dryly humorous observations of the world to make you laugh aloud.

Move over Nancy Drew, Ingrid Levin-Hill, and Lulu Dark: Flavia’s in da house. Flavia may be a kid, but The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie most assuredly ain’t a kid’s book. (If you have a preadolescent kid and said, “Ingrid-Lulu-who?” then get thee and thy ’tween to a library pronto: why wouldst thou be a breeder of kid lit cluelessness?)

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MY DOG ATE IT (AND THEN SPEWED ALL OVER THE RUG)

By now, you’ve undoubtedly noticed a preponderance of feisty female protagonists in these book recommendations. Lest I get too predictable, let’s close with a final title.

Garth Stein’s The Art of Racing in the Rain is told from the point of view of a dog. (Yes, you heard right.) Said dog is named Enzo, male... and, well, feisty. (Sue me. I couldn’t resist.)

Enzo recounts the story of a widower dad’s custody battle with his in-laws over his little girl Zoe. The Art of Racing in the Rain is rife with car racing analogies (Enzo, after all, is named after Enzo Ferrari), and chock full of what makes an excellent five-Kleenex read: love, despair, humility, redemption, joy, loyalty, and hope.

Despite being a dog - or perhaps because he is a dog - Enzo breathes humor and humanity. Reading this book will also prevent you from drop-kicking your own Fido out the back door after he’s barfed on the living room rug for the second time this week. Fido - and your kids, who love him despite the lingering odor - will thank you, even if the rug doesn’t.

Happy reading!

(All book cover images herein constitute brazen copyright infringement. Please keep me out of jail by buying a book or two; then my lawyer can argue that I gave the authors and their publishers free advertising.)

*** Stay tuned for the October 15 blog: "Top 10 Clues You’re Pregnant Before Receipt of Official Medical Confirmation: We Don’t Need No Stinkin’ Blood Test." ***

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ABCs for Moms

Are the ABCs in That Order Because of the Song?

Daphne duMaurier is perhaps best known for her masterpiece Rebecca, but my favorite duMaurier book is My Cousin, Rachel for one memorable scene: Philip’s account of his bachelor cousin Ambrose teaching him the alphabet by “using the initial letters of every swearword - twenty-six of them took some finding.”

My 14-year-old self spent far too much time trying to identify Ambrose’s twenty-six swearwords... alas, unsuccessfully. C’mon, admit it: wouldn’t you pay good money to have that list?

These days, with my two preschoolers, learning the alphabet is confined to G-rated, picturesque words like “apple” and “zebra” with nary a swearword in the mix (at least, not audibly).

But what if I had to teach the alphabet to a non-English speaking mom? It’d be as easy as, well, A-B-C, because we’d use words with concepts that moms across all language barriers can understand:

“A” is for the AVALANCHE that occurs when the tottering tower of unwashed dishes, bowls, and cups on the kitchen counter reaches its literal tipping point.

“B” is for BODILY FLUIDS that flow continuously in liquid, slurry, and semi-solid form from children’s orifices, especially after birthday parties featuring burritos, “kitchen sink” ice cream sundaes, and bounce houses - in that order. Whew. Let’s face it: motherhood is not for the faint of heart or weak of stomach.

Bouncing and birthday
parties: Do. Not. Mix.

“C” is for CAFFEINE, that vital prerequisite for a wide-awake mommy. On many days, I’d appreciate an intravenous drip of caffeine, but the medical establishment has yet to cooperate.

“D” is for DADDY. Let’s hear it for the big guy who actually enjoys wrestling in the dirt with the kids; who takes out the garbage, mops up the midnight barf, and assures Mommy that no, those pants do not make her butt look fat.

“E” is for ENERGY. Kids have a seemingly bottomless reservoir of the stuff, especially on those “Mommy’s gone decaf days.” Sigh. If only we could harness kids’ energy to power light bulbs and minor appliances.

“F” is for FATIGUE, a mom’s constant companion during the kids’ infant-toddler years. And the preschooler years. And the pre-teen years. And...

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“G” is for GOBBLE: what kids - and moms - do when faced with a heretofore forbidden dessert.

“H” is for HAND-ME-DOWNS. Thank goodness (or rather, thank you, Angela and Denise) for this wardrobe staple, especially when these clothes are far more stylish than what I could have managed to buy new with my fashion sense (or lack thereof).

“I” is for INSTRUCTIONS which moms repeat twice, thrice, a dozen, umpteen times to put the plate in the dishwasher and the underwear in the laundry basket. At some point, plan to tattoo these instructions on your kids’ (and husband’s) foreheads while they sleep.

“J” is for JUGGLER. Moms are expert jugglers of kids’ play dates, dance classes, soccer games, swim lessons, and orthodontist appointments, plus our own grocery lists, dinner menus, chores, volunteer gigs, work assignments, client meetings, etc. Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey jugglers ain’t got nothing on us moms. Who do you get when you cross a Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey juggler with a Donald Trump “apprentice”? M-o-m.

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“K” is for KISS. Dispense these freely and often to your kids. (Yeah, every list needs one sentimental, free-of-irony item.)

“L” is for LAUNDRY. Think paint, play dough, mud, ketchup, mustard, jam, grease, grass, bodily fluids... how can a kid get so many articles of clothing so filthy in a single day?!

“M” is for MARTINI, shaken not stirred, to be sipped while a handsome British gentleman listens raptly to the challenges of chaperoning the preschool field trip... oops, excuse me. Must’ve dozed off. Must. Get. More. Caffeine!

Everyone together now:
"Sugar-honey-iced-tea!!"

Speaking of which...

“N” is for NAP: the thing the children need so badly, yet adamantly refuse to succumb, while you’d sell your soul to the devil for one yourself.

“O” is for the “OH, &@*#$!!” to be muttered after a glass of milk splashes across the floor for the third time during the same meal.

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“P” is for PUNCTUAL, which hasn’t occurred since pre-pregnancy days. Getting all the kids fully dressed, combed, brushed, washed, and transported on time takes the patience of a saint and the leadership and logistical talents of Hannibal crossing the Alps. If we aim for a half-hour early, we end up a half-hour late. And strange, but true: aiming for an hour early makes us an hour late. Go figure.

“Q” is for QUIET, a relatively unknown concept in a house full of kids, pets, and - thanks, Grandpa - battery-operated toys. My husband once tried to prove that quiet happens between 1:00 and 4:00 a.m., but a subsequent tape recording revealed snores, snuffles, coughs, meows, and a plaintive, “Mom-meeee! I gotta potty!”

“R” is for RECKLESS abandon: how kids play and how moms eat chocolate.

“S” is for “SUGAR-Honey-Iced-Tea!” Too sleep-deprived to decipher this one? It’s a child-appropriate version of the earthier word you want to unleash under strain, but can’t, especially because the kids are sure to repeat any invective verbatim during church and/or Great-Aunt Ginger’s annual visit.

“T” is for TANTRUM, a seemingly daily, public, howling, all-appendages event, pitched by either over-stimulated child or under-stimulated (i.e., decaffeinated) mother, and sometimes both at the same time.

“U” is for UNDERWEAR. Investment advisors haven’t clued into this tip yet: if you toss a quarter into a jar for each pair of undies to wash during the potty-training years, you’ll have enough funds to cover each kid’s college tuition when the time comes. (A quarter for each pair during the post-potty training years will pay for grad school.)

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“V” is for VOLUME of sound. Kids have two volume settings: “loud” and “asleep.” Note that “asleep” does not equal “mute”; see the “Q is for quiet” entry.

“W” is for WHINE and its homonym WINE. Hearing too much of the former makes a mom wish for a large glass of the latter.

Cause: whine.
Effect: want wine.

“X” is for XEROSTOMIA. It’s the dryness of Mom’s mouth that results after an entire day of barking instructions, reading Green Eggs and Ham two dozen times aloud, singing countless rounds of Wheels on the Bus, catching adventurous toddlers before they fall off the monkey bars, apprehending fleet preschoolers before they tricycle into the street, and bellowing, “SUGAR-HONEY-ICED-TEA!” To get a mom’s mouth to water again, brandish a tray of Swiss chocolate truffles under her nose or show her a photo of a handsome British gentleman with a martini in hand.

“Y” is for “WHY?” Yes, it’s a phonetic cheat, but perfectly valid here. Because little enquiring minds want to know, moms hear “why” all day: “Why do cats meow and not bark? Why are there no dinosaurs now? Why is candy bad for me? Why can’t I have a crocodile? Why do I have to brush my teeth? Why is your tummy way bigger than mine? Why does Auntie Luella smell? Why does my butt itch? Why is your face turning red? Why, why, why...?”

“Z” is for ZZZ. Ah, moms’ sleep: more precious than platinum, more elusive than the Abominable Snowman, more coveted than George Clooney’s phone number, and more enjoyable - especially in an uninterrupted six-hour chunk - than the last éclair on the plate. May you catch some quality zzz’s soon. (If not, at least snatch the last éclair.)

Now we know Mom’s ABCs - next time won’t you sing with me?

*** Stay tuned for the August 30 blog: "How to Tell the Difference Between Toddlers and Tweens: You Almost Can’t." ***

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