Since I began blogging my reading adventures with monkey-face, I’ve been struck by the vivid memories recounted to me of favourite childhood books.
I’ve already told how deeply reading mattered to me as a child, yet I struggle to recall strong sentiments of favourite childhood books, except Mr Men, Miffy and The Very Hungry Caterpillar, which must have just been written, then, and the Faraway Tree and Famous Five series. I also remember a book about Parsley the Lion and a Bay City Rollers Annual, too, but I think I went for volume rather than repetition. I read anything that was lying around. Strange, forty year old encyclopaedia. Anything.
So, when compiling childhood classics, I’m gathering books based upon what appeals to me now rather than loyalty to my infancy. When visiting Kirkdale Books, discussing what else to buy for monkey-face, the assistant pulled a book out saying “and you of course probably have this already, Each Peach Pear Plum. It’s a classic.”
In truth, I’d never heard of it, but I bought it and forgive me if you undoubtedly already know it, but it’s lovely. Intriguing rhymes and pictures form a journey through nursery tales that trigger lots to look and chat about. My 2 year old was enthralled, which was its own reward. I’m certain she is now interested in the words on the page now as much as the pictures. When I was looking for something in the yellow pages today, she came trotting over, stabbing the words with her stubby index finger and making up her own little reading language. She wasn’t happy until I read the text to her and she repeated back a little. I was so pleased. We’ll have her clamouring to read the backs of cereal packets before we know it.