ALA

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You’ll probably see a lot of posts this week about the American Library Association meeting, and lots more about the Newbery/Caldecott banquet. You’ll see pictures of librarians and writers and editors all dressed up with someplace to go. Or you’ll see pictures of place cards and menus in swirly script. You’ll see dessert.

My dinner on banquet night was a slice of pizza from Two Chefs. The plate was paper, not China. The pattern was “frog.” I skipped dessert. But I did go to the end of the banquet in time to hear the speeches from the Newbery and Caldecott medal winners. Wendy Shang drove. She can actually drive in D.C. whereas I, who learned to drive on the quiet roads of Blacksburg, Va., have always been Super Chicken and do it only when absolutely necessary. We parked a few blocks away, walked past three guys getting patted down by the police, and entered the hotel. We found the banquet room, the doors were open, and chairs were welcoming those of us who decided to come in late and forgo the $94 ticket. The hotel put out almost exactly the right number of chairs, so clearly the ALA people had this down to a science. (I saw only one person standing and she may have just wanted to stretch her legs.) We were way in the back. But it felt like exactly the right place to be. Wendy and I got to sit near other writer-type people (Pam Bachorz and her friend Vivian, Cynthea Liu, and Jaclyn Dolamore. You’ve got to love an event where you can still name drop from the second-to-last row.) We got to cringe collectively when we remembered our warped view of relationships after Newbery Chairman Katie O’Dell invoked the name VC Andrews. We got to laugh when Jerry Pinkney said the word “finally” and we got to “awww” when he shared his honor with his wife of 50 years. We got to wipe away sneak-attack tears when Rebecca Stead talked about lightning bolts of joy. I didn’t have my camera but here at home I took a picture of my little plastic cup. (The water was in the back of the room, too.) As you can see, the cup is half full. =)

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Luggage

We went to the beach last weekend for two (2) days and I asked my kids to pack what they wanted to bring. This is what my son packed:

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Books and Broccoli

Every year I try a new vegetable in my garden. Last year it was corn, which immediately attracted a 157,000 new garden pests. The chipmunks were thrilled by the addition of the corn, but no one else really was (see: 157,000 new garden pests) so this year we replaced the corn with broccoli. My kids have never been broccoli’s No. 1 fans, but they’ll eat it so I figured it was worth a shot.

Score.

Turns out broccoli is incredibly easy to grow as it’s a crop that can be started early, before mosquitoes and heat and humidity make you wonder why you’d ever hoed a garden in the first place. It doesn’t take up too much room. And the only pests that came with it were the caterpillars for cabbage butterflies, which ate some of the leaves, but left the crowns alone. On top of that, broccoli is incredibly prolific. After the first, perfect crown is harvested, all sorts of little shoots start growing off the plant. They’re not as compact or pretty, but they taste great. When the kids need a snack, they go to the garden, break off a stalk, and eat.
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So what does this have to do with books? So glad you asked!
I heard a story recently about a 15-year-old who is going to have a bummer of a summer: she’s spending it in and out of the hospital, recovering from an injury. A friend wanted to send her some books, but was told not to. “She’s not really that into reading.”

I won’t go into the rant I went into the other day. But I can’t help wondering: If you grow the broccoli, will she eat it? If you find, somehow, the perfect crown, will more shoots follow?

The fine people over at PBS Booklights have been writing recurring posts about growing young readers. The optimist in me says that readers can still grow at any age; that the expression “late bloomer” didn’t come from nowhere. So I’m on a quest to find the perfect book. If you’ve got a suggestion, leave it in comments.

Posted in gardening, kidlit, reading with kids | 6 Comments

Marketing to Kids

Our friend David sent us a package of Cheese Puffs in the mail. In part he splurged on the shipping charges because he knows my husband really likes Cheese Puffs. Mostly he sent it because of the packaging. Our question is the same as David’s, namely what in the heck made the marketing department at Payaso feel that this particular clown, who would clearly be more at home on an Insane Clown Posse album, was a good idea?
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Okay, so “payaso” means “clown” in Spanish. But it doesn’t mean “really scary clown” (that would be “payaso realmente espantoso,” if you trust my Google translator). For the record, the bright orange glow of the cheese puffs was such that my kids didn’t really notice the clown. When I pointed him out, they asked “is he a bad guy?”
I wasn’t sure of the answer there. Maybe he’s trying to do the honorable thing and scare us away from processed foods?

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Busted

busted

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