I have a serious confession to make.
Its not what you think, and its rather embarrassing.
But not that kind of embarrassing, if you know what I mean. Not like a David-Duchovny-sex-addiction kind of embarrassing, just regular embarrassing.
I am addicted to kid lit…. children’s stories. And not just Harry Potter kind of stories…. although HP does double duty, but all kid’s books and fables. And movies…oh, and ‘Original made-for-tv movies’.
Like the one I am watching right now (Samurai Girl). Happily my husband is not at home and I can wallow in the luxury of watching this by myself and not having to put up with his snarky comments. Truly its delicious.
When I was a child my favorite book was “The Big Orange Splot”. Oh man, did I ever love that book. And I carried that love with me into adulthood. I told my husband about it years ago, and he tracked it down and gave it to me as a Christmas present one year. Rereading it was a terribly wonderful treat.
And there are others…. that darn Alanna “The Woman who Rides like a Man” series, any and all old-school Disney movies from the 50’s and 60’s, Swiss Family Robinson, High School Musical….oh I could go on and on… but I won’t…
I don’t know exactly what it is that draws me in to these stories. Maybe its because I secretly long for my life to be like these stories? I would like to live in a house shaped like a boat or a castle. I wish that my cat was from outer space AND that she could talk. I want to disguise myself as a boy and enter knight-school and kick some serious ass. I really want to build an awesome tree house on a tropical island.
Speaking of tree houses….. my father used to have a cabin on a lake when I was little. We spent a lot of time there in the summer, my sister and I, when my Dad had us for his 2 week period. He was dating my stepmother at the time and she has two boys. They had built a little tree house right next to the cabin that Lins and I were obsessed with. We would spend the whole day up there, hammering away at random things, making ‘curtains’, that sorta thing.
I remember we were so pleased with ourselves, with all of the work that we’d put into the place. We proudly told our soon-to-be brothers about all of our work, and they scoffed at us! Told us that we had somehow made it impossible to get into the treehouse now with the pieces that we’d added, and they had just finished ripping them out!! Unbelievable! So clearly I was not meant to build a tree house… perhaps just live in one. Regardless…
Mostly they have such strong yet flawed main characters. Like me….. strong yet flawed. Like everyone. The stories reinforce humanity’s simialrities. Even if we are visually so different, we are all the same but long to be different. Which makes us the same.
Perhaps a general interpretation that is a little too deep for childern’s books.
I know I still want to be like Alanna though, even though its been at least 15 years since I first read her story.
And I still think it would be amazing if my breakfast came raining down out of the sky. Or if my dog suddenly talked.
All of those movies and stories keep my imagination fresh and alive and I love it. And honestly, while I say its embarrassing it’s not. Not really anyways!