Why Does Ear Wax taste so gross... and more top trivia!

Author : Mitchell Symons
Ages: 6+

About 6 years back, my elder son came inside the kitchen asking me for a bottle quarter filled with water. He then asked for a spoonful of all the spices in the kitchen, some coriander, yogurt, flour, rice, lentils, oil, my perfume, baby shampoo, shaving foam, crushed ginger and finally some acrylic paint. He then disappeared for about an hour, then came back and asked me to save his "special magic potion" in the kitchen window sill, and I obliged. Every time I glanced at it, mum instinct would kick me with a vengeance, but I was too busy to give it a thought. Eventually after 4 or 5 days, the kicks became too much to bear and I summoned my boy and asked him what was so special about the potion. My instinct had been spot on, he could find "no cat urine to go into the potion", so he wee-d into it and that I should "never worry, the magic would still work fine"! :oO!!

Some things never change with time. Some boys never change at all!

Recently, I discovered there is such a genre of books called "grossology".  Very aptly named, because these books can't quote more grosser facts! Like the one suggested in the title of this book...  Why does ear wax taste so gross.

While I was wondering who in the world would ever want to taste THAT, I overheard my boys ( standing in front of this book in the library) comparing the intricate effects that this thing and a very particular other thing had on their taste buds :o{ ...
and went gagging away :oC ...
only to find the book right beside their bedside table that night :o\.

I agree. My culinary delights are anything but delightful, but I had never ever ever ever expected my boys to resort to eating such appalling stuff! I should really try to cook more interesting things to eat. Or probably make my usual cooking look gross enough to interest them :o)

And just when I was wondering if this was a faulty gene-of-this-generation running in my family, I stumbled upon this mumsnet discussion about house rules. One of the mum had quoted " don't sit on your sibling and fart", and I realized I am not the lone mum with DSs obsessed and extremely "inquisitive and creative" with their output. :o)

Anyway, coming down to the book: this is not really the book of general knowledge or the quiz book that would get you prizes, but it is certainly something the kids will enjoy reading again and again. Some facts in the book aren't quite the useful stuff  - knowing that a rat can swim 72 hours non-stop isn't going to get you a degree. But it is a bit of info nevertheless, and little curious brains ( of boys, in particular) seem to relish such trivia. It also has loads of facts about body functions(!), inventions, famous people, films, history, geography. languages and just about anything.

I liked reading the bits about what kids wrote in English, history, science exams. Totally funny. Like this one:  "John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met." LOL! And " She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs" !!

And quite soon it dawned on me that I had read the book back-to-back without even realizing it :o)

I still decided against practically experimenting on the title, though!

Tea Break - Just plain

Aaaaah... That hot cup of solace from a lone stall on a bleak, shivering day. No posh tea could beat That!

March came rolling in with double digit temperatures, and the daffs in the garden just started playing Peepo! with me, but oh no! Jealous Snow Queen turns up again to punish me with icicles and howling snow! :o(

February and March always have their share of special days. I am not quite sure if I buy into the concept of celebrating "days". I must be the worst memory chip ever designed, you know, the ones that get almost discarded but then sold off on a seconds sale. I forget my own birthday / wedding anniversary etc leave alone remember those of others! I have had instances of my cousins calling to wish me and me asking them what the occasion was!

Anyway, I was meaning all the Valentine's day, Father's day, Mother's day and all similar ones. I like the idea of putting a smile on the faces of someone who means so much to you, but I am not at all for the commercial aspect of it. It is okay that they might be the bread and butter of Hallmark and Moonpig and what-not card companies, but these cards, they are such spoilsports! Even if some of them are really very beautiful and bring out just the perfect feeling, I must admit!

Personally, I rather prefer the home-made ones, the odd paint blobs and finger smudges included. They show someone really took the time. Someone thought about you and broke their back to do something to make you smile. I love that very much. These days we try to make our own cards for all occasions. ( hehe particularly after my little boy started having parties at the rate of 2 per month, each jointly for 3 or 4 kids. In their class, everybody gives parties to everybody!)

I used to be against all these "days" thing. Particularly Mother's day. I would think - why celebrate your mother on just that day, she should be celebrated every single day. That was a very young, very strong and confident ME talking, I think. Because after all these years of being mum to two typhoons,and not being "celebrated" at all, I am beginning to have second thoughts.

I wonder how many people still follow the basic tradition of Mothering Sunday - to go to their mother Church with their family and pray, a holiday to be with their mother and other members of family and do family activities. For the time-pressed, gadget obsessed generation of today, it has become a very easy way out - just get a card, a bunch of flowers, some slippers or pyjamas or girly things and that's all done! Who cares what Mum really wants, am done with the job.

At home, this year was a sweet surprise. As ever, my boys came to me asking what I wanted for Mother's day. I told them I wanted the usual - cuddles and kisses for me and cards and letters for their Grannies. The boys went one step ahead. They made Tea for me ( they sure know how to please Mum and get away with treats!), made breakfast as well, hoovered the house, put the rubbish out, and to top it all, made some delicious toffee for me all by themselves ( they said the recipe was from a book I got for them. They even wanted to make the lunch, but my motherly inner-self's warning intercepted just in time and saved the kitchen from the imminent threat!!) That was the best treat, the best gift I had ever received! I was so overjoyed and that moment I realized - all mums could certainly do with some attention and pampering. Even if it is for just one day, it is a very wonderful way to feel loved, to smile at those genuine attempts made by your little ones to make you feel special.

 

How many times in a day do we take Mums for granted! As if that is not enough, we even idolize Mums and make so many quotes about her faultless, selfless, ever-smiling love, sacrifice etc and make them feel immensely under pressure to be all that they are meant to be as per those poems and verses. I mean of course a Mum is all of that quite naturally, but darn it, she is also a woman by herself - someone with anger, resentment, disappointments, hard choices, fallible, sometimes wanting to be selfish, sometimes with a little ego and sometimes wanting to be so far away from everyone, as well! The most cruel thing you could do to a mother is to pile all those quotes of highest, almost impossible expectations on her, thereby making any normal and sane mother feel like a failure. If a mother is to be idolized, it is not because she spreads love beyond all such human negativities, but despite all of it.

For it takes a strong-willed mother to raise beyond all those feelings and emotions and still love their family like mad. Despite being ignored, despite being taken for granted, despite being angered, depressed, forever tired, deprived of their dreams or with innumerable changes to all their life-plans. That, only a mother could do.

And for that, even if it is hugely inadequate, a day of celebration is only befitting.

If only children understood that in the whole world, despite all their military rules, mothers are the easiest to please. All it takes is just a call, a hug,  a few hours of patient listening, a day off from the drudging routine and some kind words.

And perhaps a cup of steaming hot tea - just plain!

 

The Giving Tree

Author and Illustrator: Shel Silverstein
Ages: age no bar!

Caution : Tear Jerker ( for adults, kids are a whole lot braver!)

When my dear sister reminded me of Shel Silverstein's works, I ended up getting a couple of his books from the library. The books were adored by the boys. This book, though, is... I just don't know, I really have no words to describe it. I only had my tears bearing testimony to the beauty of this book.

Once there was an apple tree who loved a little boy. The boy played with the tree, ate the apples, gathered leaves and made crowns, swung in her branches and slept underneath when he was tired. He loved the tree very much. And the tree was happy.

Soon, the boy grew into adolescence and his visits to the tree became less frequent. And when he did come, the tree was overjoyed and asked him to come and play on its branches again. The boy said that he was too big to play and that he wanted loads of money to succeed in life. The tree said that she had no money, but he could take her apples and sell them and make money. The boy did just that. And the tree was happy.

A long time of absence, and then the boy came again. The tree's happiness knew no bounds and she again asked him to play and rest with her. But the boy said that he was too busy for that, and that he badly wanted a house for his wife and children, so he could keep them safe. The tree said it had no house, but the boy could take her branches and build a house for himself. The boy did so, and the tree was happy.

And a really long time later, the boy ( who is no longer a boy, but an old man) came again, rather sad. This time when the ecstatic tree asked him to play, he said that he was so tired and sad and wanted to go far far away and needed a boat. The tree offered her trunk for the boat and the boy took the same. The tree was happy, but not very much. She missed the boy, maybe she couldn't bear to see him so sad. Now she was just a barren stump.

Finally, haggard and really old, the boy came again. The tree apologized and told him she had nothing to give. The boy ( now a really old, hunched man) said he only wanted a place to rest. The tree said that her stump was just the place and asked the boy to sit there. The boy did so.

And the tree was happy.

My sister said that after reading this, her little boy commented that "even when you lose everything friends ( like the tree) will be there for you. And the tree was foolish to give away everything, it should have been smarter and the boy was greedy... he kept taking and taking from the tree". These, I thought, were really lovely interpretations made by a wee child!

My elder son had just one thing to say, " Why, that selfish brat of a boy!". But it hit a more sensitive note with my little one. He felt so sad that the tree was reduced to a stump, and kept saying it was a sad story. So I pointed out to him the really, really special part of the story - The tree was happy.

Loving memories, hurt, guilt, unconditional love, revelations, security... the feelings that the story evokes are all so raw, so deep.

For me, it is a testimony to the love of my parents, my in-laws. It is all about that magical gift of being able to give unconditionally. It is such a blissful state that is unfazed by the lack of reciprocation. It only cares about giving. With all the heart, with all the body, as much as possible, as long as possible. Whatever it takes to keep the little one happy. If this is not love in its purest form, if this is not a realized state, then what else could be!

It also reminds me of children. Us as children, and our children. Somehow, parents are the ones who push them to extremes, hammering down the importance of succeeding, of money, fame. And then the children simply go ahead in pursuit of it all, get so absorbed in it, ignore what is important - or who is important, get worn down and tired and finally, realize the whole picture.

If only the realization happens when the stump is still there, waiting...

I am gifted to have experienced the giving tree.

I wish I were the giving tree to loved ones.

I leave the remaining interpretation to the readers.

Here is an online version of the book.

The Giving Tree. Gift it. Receive it. Cherish it.

This Moose Belongs to Me

Author: Oliver Jeffers
Ages: 5+ to all adults who love quirky moose and a little enlightenment :o)

image courtesy:http://www.oliverjeffers.com/media/TMBTM-04-05_F.jpg 

I am a great admirer of the Geethacharam. Roughly translated, it means:

What has happened, has happened for good
What is happening, is for good
And what will happen would be for good
What possession that was truly yours did you lose
For you to cry over?
What did you bring (into the world) for you to lose it?
What did you create yourself that has been destroyed?
Whatever you took for yourself belongs here
And Whatever you give out belongs here, too
What is yours today will be another's tomorrow
And yet another's, another day.
This is the  principle of the world
This is the essence of creation, of evolution.

Who would have thought that all it takes is a Moose and a funny little boy to make kids understand such a beautiful lesson in life! Hats off to Oliver Jeffers for coming up with this gem of a book - This Moose belongs  to me.

Wilfred finds a moose in his garden, names him " Marcel" thereby proclaiming it belongs to him. He wanders in the woods and mountains with Marcel. He makes many rules for Marcel to follow, to train him. Some of them include serving drinks when he needs, getting things for him that are out of his reach, sheltering him from rain, not disturbing when he plays his records and many such funny rules. Marcel of course, is totally nonchalant. He cares two hoots about the rules, but by nature does things that sometimes tick off some of these rules.

And all is well until one day a lady comes up and calls Marcel as Rodrigo and says it is hers. Much to the fury of Wilfred, Marcel acts as if Wilfred didn't even exist and goes readily to the lady, who has an apple in her hand for him.

An angry Wilfred stomps back home, only to be tangled in a mess by a length of rope that he had left behind. But then he gets rescued by Marcel ( or so he thinks), who then goes to another man who comes by and calls him Dominic and claims that it is his moose!

Hidden inside all the funny, yet very perfect story and illustrations are so many beautiful facts stated in Gitacharam. The Moose belongs to no one, everyone simply assumes it is theirs. It comes and goes as it pleases, people get attached to it, but it is like an enlightened being, just not belonging to anyone. It comes from the woods, goes back into the woods.

You get caught in a mess, you are saved out of a mess. These things happen on no account of no merit from your side, it JUST happens.

And even if every now and then things might look as if they belong to you, it is JUST your illusion.

Accept it, you own nothing. Not even your children, as Gibran says.
(They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you....)

Oliver Jeffers' illustrations are also so perfect, the emotions beautifully shown and the book feels very much complete and wholesome with his drawings.

This Moose belongs to Me. This book belongs to me, or does it?!

(The Hueys in) The New Jumper

US: The Hueys in The New Sweater
Author and Illustrator: Oliver Jeffers
Ages: 3+

I remember when Seth Godin's book was released, Purple Cows were very much in! Being different suddenly became a trend that was so religiously followed. Actually so much followed that suddenly, being normal became the new fashion :o).

Jokes apart, this book by Oliver Jeffers is a children's version of The Purple Cow. Only, it doesn't really talk about standing out in the business as much as saying that being different could be so much fun. And how fashion trends go from initial rejection to passive aversion to almost Swine Flu-ishly feverish copying world-wide! ( Gangnam-ishly viral, to make it sound "in trend" as of now :o))

The Hueys ( they are just plain cute - plain and cute!) are a clone-ly lot of beings: they think the same, act the same, do the same and are just the same. That was the rule of the clan - Always same to same :o).

Then comes a stir in the form of Rupert. This Huey is suddenly taken by a whim and knits himself an orange jumper ( sweater).  Looking at his proud display, the Huey town goes into a state of violent shock at the eye sore. Rupert stands out like a sore thumb, didn't he know the rules of being a Huey! Tongues wag behind in disgust, baby Hueys cry looking at this aberration, Mama and Dada Hueys get plain sick, drop their things and get into little accidents just at the sight of this orange-clad anomaly.

But then Rupert's friend Gillespie thinks "Why not!" and he knits himself the same jumper. One is madness, but two different Hueys look curiously cool. Hueys start looking at the daring pair with rising admiration and start wondering "Hmm. Want that!".

And hell, no, wool(orange) breaks loose in Hueyland. Every Huey wants to be different and is busy knitting away orange jumpers. Orange jumpers jump high up in the trend so much.Each Huey thinks it is so different, so Orange and cool. Suddenly all the Hueys in town look different ( and hence, the same :o)).

All until Rupert decides to wear a Hat.

Quite rightly, Gillespie hits his head, perhaps imagining the frantic fever that is going to grip the town again to "look cool and different". The good thing about the ending is that all Hueys are shown wearing totally different outfits and being very happy about being different.

Such a wonderful story, and this is not at all the first time I am wondering if any of these books is meant only for children at all. I rather INSIST that adults get to read these books. They should really be used with older children as well as a discussion point on how fashion trends are created and more important, how it is actually quite nice to be different and original.

My boys loved the story very, very much. The best part of the book is the seemingly very simply drawings. Which means that the kids have created dozens of Hueys since the day they read this book.

I found out that you can design your own Hueys here. Something that the younger children love to do over and over.

You can get a sneak peek into the book here.

And there is a reading of the book here.

Oliver Jeffers says he was greatly influenced in childhood by Maurice Sendak's works, and in particular one of my favourite books,  Where the Wild things are.

He has written many other sweet, quirky, funny and subtly touching books - Lost and Found, How to Catch a Star, This Moose belongs to Me, Stuck, Heart and the Bottle to name some.

The New Jumper. A trendsetter!

The Lost Thing

Author and Illustrator: Shaun Tan
Ages: 10 - 100+

What are we doing like hamsters in wheels, grinding through each day with a pre-programmed set of tasks...

What are we doing, running madly week after week, like horses in reins, never bothering to notice what is happening around us...

Too busy to care, too pre-occupied to bother, no time to be sensitive to beings around, yet always trying to belong somewhere or with someone, a system, a clan whether or not it makes us happy. Whether or not we feel belonged!

The Lost thing is one of the most disturbing, unsettling books I have ever come across in the recent times. I mean unsettling in a very positive way here, for Shaun Tan has created such a wonderful piece of "surreal reality" in his book. Every single drawing tells a story. Each time you read the book, it conveys a new meaning, a new angle. I understand the author's apprehension in his book being designated for kids' shelves. It is a more intricate, more mature story with more profound hidden questions for adults. It is one of the books that look so artistic and rich that you would want to proudly display in your bookshelf. At least that is how I look at it.

No surprise then, that the animated version of the book won an Oscar for the best animated short film category in 2011. Or that the book itself won many literary awards in many countries.

The book is about a beach combing boy whose hobby is collecting and classifying bottle tops. During one such expedition he comes across a weird metallic thing looking like a red kettle with a green octopus inside standing alone on the beach. Nobody seems to have noticed is, neither is anybody bothered to check it out. Plain apathy, or perhaps they do not dare to venture out of the mundane daily life.

The boy, maybe due to his sensitivity to surroundings or perhaps because he has time in his hands, notices the thing and pities it and takes it home. Mum and Dad barely notice it either, as they are too busy reading newspaper or watching TV. It is as if they do not even allow an interruption to their routine, no matter how dull and mechanical their routine is. Between their pre-occupation, they ask the boy to take it back and immediately forget about it. The boy then takes it to his friend, who basically has something to say about everything. But this lost thing defies his knowledge and he admits that it is as if it came from nowhere and belongs nowhere!

Then the boy sees an advert asking people to bring in any strange things that they find anywhere and so takes the lost thing there. There he is given, unsurprisingly, a HUGE bundle of paperwork to be completed for the same. (Makes you wonder if this is also one of the reasons why we seldom bother to turn in any lost things we find to concerned authorities.). As he stands there wondering what to do, someone approaches him and tells him that if he turned the thing in, it would just disappear under a barrage of more such things, classified and forgotten, never to be seen again. And if he really cared,  he should take it to another place. The boy finally leaves the thing in that new place, which seems to have even more weird looking creatures, none of which seemed to belong there, but looked happy enough.

The story concludes with the boy saying that he still thinks about the lost thing, especially when he notices something that doesn't quite fit, something with a weird, sad sort of look. But he sees less and less of such things as days pass, maybe because there aren't any more lost things. Or perhaps he just stopped noticing them. Maybe he is simply too busy doing other stuff.

The end haunts us and questions us long after the story is over.

The background is a world of fantasy, bleak and filled with only metallic things in a rusty environment. There is simply no plant life. Maybe that is what would happen when we stop caring. When all we think of is our self and our chronic daily existence.

The "thing" could be anything. Anyone. Do we care enough to do what the boy did when we see a sad, helpless soul around? Do we even bother to stop and enquire? Or are we like all those insensitive, busy people, simply with no time to care? Do we try to see things differently? Is it nice to be creative and with imagination, or is it better to be a run of the mill creature?

I must really thank my elder son for introducing Shaun Tan to me. He had read a Shaun Tan book called " The Arrival" in school. It is another stunning story with absolutely no words, about an immigrant in a new land, away from family. I am yet to get my hands on that book, but from what I have read, it is yet another masterpiece...

The Lost Thing.  Helps you find your self.

A Child's Garden - a story of hope

Author and Illustrator: Michael Foreman
Ages: 5+

It is never easy to explain to children about war. It is always a very painful subject and brings only negative emotions and fears. But it would be a lot better to handle it by also talking about the extreme resilience of the human spirit, hope and healing.

Michael Foreman has done a nice work of handling both very delicately in "A Child's Garden". This book has been endorsed by Amnesty international UK as contributing to a better understanding of human rights and the values that underpin them.

A little boy lives in a world of ruins, dust and rubbles and barbed wires. Separating yesterday's neighbours and friends as strangers is a fence of barbed wire. The landscape is black and white and grey. Sad and barren, it has destruction written all over it.

One day after the rain, the boy sees a dash of hope. A tiny green plant is trying to establish its roots in his side of the fence. The boy immediately takes to it, and shelters it from the scorching sun with rags and broken bricks. He waters it with the rain water collected in old tins. The plant grows into a grapevine that clings on to the fence and spreads out its green tendrils everywhere.

Soon, the place is bursting with colour. Butterflies and birds make it home and children play under the shades. Laughter and merriness are back! The memory of ruins and war is forgotten for a while.

But not for long, though. The soldiers on the other side uproot the vine and throw it in a ditch on their side. The little boy looks over to the hills in the yonder where he once used to go with his Dad, but now are on the wrong side. Life is back to black, white and grey and the boy is overcome with grief.

 

image courtesy www.guardian.co.uk/books

Winter passes, cold and harsh. Spring arrives late, but the boy sees new green shoots both on his side and also the other side of the fence. A little girl tends to the vine on the other side, the soldiers not really minding it as the plant is now on their side. The vines grow on both the sides and the tendrils get entwined over the fence. And the colours are back! Together, the vines spread out shade and hope on either sides. The children forget all their worries and play happily, laughter sounding again!

And the boy comprehends a very positive message. Let the soldiers come again and uproot the vines. It wouldn't matter anymore. The roots are deep. The seeds multiply. The plants will find a way out again. They don't give up after being battered down. Instead, they simply endure it all and rise back in all their glory.

Maybe, one day, the fence would go as well. And the children would be able to climb up the lush hills and be friends again.

(There Are Ways
To Get There
If You Care Enough
For The Living
Make A Little Space
Make A Better Place.
Heal the world we live in, save it for our children)

Michael foreman has made the illustrations really stand out. It would have been a heavy responsibility to create a picture of a war-torn landscape, yet instilling hope and faith. It is not threatening, yet there is ample detail and the parents can talk as much or as less about the pictures. The author does not mention any countries, but it could be just any neighbours torn apart by war.

This book touched me in many ways. It was a reminder to count the blessings and be thankful for every safe morning I wake up to. And teach these values to my children - a message of caring, thankfulness, hope and extraordinary endurance.

 A Child's garden. Fragrant and promising.

P:S He has also illustrated Snow Tales, which I had reviewed previously.