By the time my older son was four months old, he would sit on my lap, point at images he enjoyed, and help turn the pages of the board books we’d read together. At this age he was a stormy, intensely-observant little person already passionately opposed to doctor’s offices, food stores, malls, elevators, escalators, cribs, playpens, sitting still, quiet, music, bright lights, nail clippers, solitude, crowds, darkness, clothing tags, naps, and loud-noises-that-were-not-trains. Book time was just about the only peaceable time we had each day that did not involve either somebody lactating or Johnson’s Baby Shampoo.
Through the seemingly endless parade of meltdowns that framed a period that most children just SLEEP THROUGH, I discovered that we could usually reconnect and calm down with a book. The increasingly ill-named diaper bag rarely contained actual diapers, wipes, or changes of clothing…but as God is my witness: I knew better than to leave home without the entire Thomas the Tank Engine oeuvre in board-book form by the time this child was on rice cereal.
Sometimes now I think there was a Darwinian purpose to my son’s behavior. Because today that baby is 15 years old, almost six feet tall, perfectly capable of reading to himself, and actually working on his own novel–and yet I still read to him and his brother most evenings. It is, after all this time, still the point in the day when I know we can all calm down and reconnect. The cats know it, too. They pad upstairs most nights and curl up into contented loaf-shapes on one bed or the other to listen along, eyes closed, purring intermittently.
I have read all seven of the Harry Potter books aloud to my children, with different voices for each character (it is a point of no small pride in our home that each of us can do reasonably proficient Cockney, Irish, London, Cornish, and Scottish accents, on demand), as well as a great many favorites from my own childhood: fairy tales, nonsense poetry, stories of magic and fantasy…
Initially, my goal was to entertain and intrigue: Aren’t books wonderful? Don’t you want more? Do you hear that delicious no-one-screaming sound? But somewhere along the way, as my sons got older, I wanted something else from the books we read. I wanted inspiration.
As it turns out, a precocious appreciation for a ripping tale well-told does not guarantee a life of academic ease. The occupational therapist that ultimately worked with my older son once told me, “I’ve never met a child with such profound sensory integration dysfunction before.” Three years later, she amended her statement upon meeting the younger son: “…until now.”
The sensory gates that we all possess, that allow some environmental stimuli through while blocking out extraneous information so that we do not become overwhelmed by the world around us, didn’t work quite right for either of my children–by which I mean: at all. This resulted in attention deficits, impulsiveness, phobias, sleep dysfunction and some oppositional defiance (as well as profound irritability on everyone’s part)–all of which did nothing to help the underlying language-processing disorders both children also had.
My sons have had to work harder than other kids. Very little of what we consider “normal” has come naturally to them: holding a pencil, tying their shoes, reading a book, kicking a ball, adding two numbers, sitting in a chair, buttoning a coat, writing a sentence, making a friend…despite possessing “normal” IQs, they have required therapies and specialists to master each of these milestones.
I recognized early on that I would need all of the help that I could get in supporting these two and ever since the fateful day on which I came upon Captain Underpants creator Dav Pilkey’s website and read about his experiences with AD/HD, I’ve expanded my support network to include fictional characters, as well–a strategy sometimes referred to as bibliotherapy.
Bibliotherapy is the use of books and relationships with characters to help children cope with challenges. In the context in which I use the word, this does not mean self-help books for children. Instead, it means well-crafted stories where compelling characters prevail against seemingly-insurmountable odds through a mix of grit, optimism, and moxie. As GeekMom Laura explained in an earlier post: Childhood books make us who we are. I want kids who are independent, creative, problem solvers who adore their mother but do not plan on living in her basement in their 30’s. I choose our titles accordingly.
What follows here is a list of some of the best “against the odds” books I’ve read to my sons in the last two years. Some of the titles border on dystopian-lit but I try to temper the despair of dystopia by alternating with choices that are uplifting and lighter.
If you’ve got additional titles to suggest, by the way, I’m all ears.
Bring springtime and color into your home with Marimekko stationery items.
The fight between winter and the onset of spring is something we know well in…
Out today is the newest Mouse Guard book, 'Mouse Guard: Dawn of the Black Axe'—and…
If you like some extra squares in your cubes, check out the new Rubik's x…
Like many others, I jumped directly into my Apple Music Replay this year filled with…