Dancing Without Rhythm

Well, the cure for blogger's blah for me, is to get out more. My mind was flooded and I couldn't get back to my computer fast enough today. Fortunately for my everlasting soul, I had a workout and a drive home that made me filter somewhat and I'm not going to be catty and rude. But I do have to say one thing about the evolution of story time.

When Benja was 17 months old I ventured out to our local library in a little college town in Utah. I was pregnant with Avee and still had ambition in parenting. This storytime was phenomenal. The Indigo Girls could come and perform for me in my living room, complete with a puppet show, and I think I'd still hold that this little storytime was the best ever. It was two college kids, one an older guy with a guitar and wicked sense of humor, and another 20ish girl with red boingy curls and boundless energy. They sang, dance, razzed, honked, wiggled, and glubble-glubbed like I haven't seen since. Benja had the attention span of a lima bean and lap-hopped shamelessly. I didn't care, I was usually enthralled with the storytimers. Guitar man would sing "Itsy Bitsy Spider" like Elvis and Red Boingy Curls would do herkies at the end of "Mr. Alligator" and "Wheels on the Bus". The one drawback was this. It was a normal size area for story time, in a not normal community of children per parents. So there were always like 12 parents/caregivers and 57 kids. I'm not exaggerating.

We moved 40 miles north and I, still blindly ambitious, took my two kids. It was a huge room, and the story teller was this librarian that perfectly fit every stereotype there is for a librarian. She sat squarely on a chair with her cardigan draped over her shoulders and read book after book after book. To a room full of 2 year old children. She scolded kids who squirmed and asked mothers to remove small children who breathed through their noses.
We didn't go back.

Then we moved here and I took them to the local library and there we found a nice fit. It wasn't Red Boingy Curls and Elvis day at preschool by any means, but we liked it. Benja got involved immediately and was "interactive" even when the story teller wasn't. I think it helped that she was like, 3 and a half inches taller than Benja. In heels. Just a tiny lady. She's very sweet and has a schedule and a little voice, and you know how kids love schedules and little voices. I like her because she laughs when Benja says, "That's not a sheep, it's a lamb!" and "That's not blue, that's periwinkle!"

But the library is taking a break until September. And I'm sick of reading to my kids myself. So I took them to Barne$ and N0ble. And here's the part where I'm not going to be catty and rude. I just want to say, if you have a choice when it comes to storytime leader, try to find one that hasn't been smoking since grammar school. "The whee(gasp)eels on the buu(gasp)us go round (gasp) and round...." That's all I'm going to say.

We are so going back to cute little squeaky lady.

Before I go, just a few conversations from my morning:
At the store while looking for a birthday present
B: I’m donna hafta push the cart betuz you tan’t betuz you’re so fat.
M: Wow Benja, that’s just not a nice thing to say.
B: Really? It isn’t?
Me, to myself: Only because it’s true. Anyone been to Ross lately, those aisles are insanely narrow.

In the car:
B: Bebble bubble little bribble, how I wonder what you zibble.
Booble beeble bipple bip, zizzle rizzle mizzle mip. You know that song mom? Sing it!
M: I can’t sing that song to you Benja.
B: Why not?
M: Because you just made it up, I don’t know the words to songs that just come out of your head.
B: It didn’t come out of my head, it came out of my hands. And a little bit of my mouth.

At lunch:
M: Finish up those grapes and I’d say you’re done.
B: I caaaaaaaaaan’t
M: Oh really? What’s the problem?
B: They're uh-scusting
M: No they aren't, you love grapes!
B: Yeah, but these ones are too deep and wide.

Wha?

Posted by Angela on Tuesday, August 08, 2006 at 8/08/2006 | Permalink