Which came first? The love of the color blue or the love of the blue sweaters and blue jeans worn by the children in Pat Hutchins’ art work? My son wonders. He does know his earliest memory of loving the color blue is linked to Hutchins’ illustrations.
It doesn’t matter which came first. What does matter is that the words and art of the books we read aloud to our children, and the ones they later read independently, linger in their hearts.
I recently read a children’s book that was rich in memorable characters and adventure. It was also rich in laughing over brief episodes of profanity and glossing over hinted promiscuity. Otherwise, the stories were excellent. I wondered. With caveats about inappropriateness, could I read them aloud to impressionable children?
The next day, my son called. Our conversation turned to Piggins, a picture book we enjoyed thirty years ago. He told me the details that impacted his thinking and compared Piggins to another favorite, Brambly Hedge. At that moment, I knew I had to abandon the questionable book. The risk was not worth taking.
I am a part of everything that I have read. Theodore Roosevelt
