Junie B.

When M was a new reader, she had zero interest in Junie B. Jones. She didn't like Magic Treehouse either. Those were her friends' favorites, but, she would have none of them. I was trying to remember what she did read, and all I could come up with was Nate the Great, though I also remember her loving Poppleton, about whom she did her first book report in the first grade. When I asked her this evening what she liked to read back then, she mentioned something else that I've forgotten, and now she's asleep so I can't ask her again. But basically, I remember her in kindergarten reading those little stapled-together literacy books--the ones that go "The tree is green. The leaf is green. The grass is green. I am green with envy at the greening of the entire universe." (OK, that's not quite a verbatim quote)--and in second grade reading Malory Towers and Laura Ingalls Wilder and Betsy-Tacy, and I have no recollection of what happened in between.

E, on the other hand, is a huge fan of both Magic Treehouse (known in her circles as the Jack and Annie books) and Junie B. They read Magic Treehouse in her class last year, and I think maybe Junie B. too. Then I read her Junie B. at home, and now [drum roll, please] she can read Junie B. to me (E is reading about a year earlier than M did, agewise, and maybe half a year, or a year and a half, depending on how you count it, gradewise, though it's hard to compare, because being a December baby, she is in her second year of kindergarten, which apparently makes her the rock star of kindergarten: the other moms come up to me at pick-up and say, wide-eyed, "R told me that E is the only kid in the class who can open her own package of animal crackers," and "M says that E is the only one who can read AND tie her shoes!" [I had no idea about the animal crackers!]).

But as we all recall, this is no longer a cute-kid-anecdote kind of blog, and the point here today is Junie B.

When E first insisted that I read her Junie B., I was completely disgusted. Not by the grammar, which I believe is a frequent objection (and this post really should be chock-a-block with links, but I just don't feel like it, and if you don't have a five-year-old girl and you have never heard of Junie B. Jones, well, you know how to google, don't you? you just put your lips together...oops, wrong allusion). No, I was disgusted because Junie B. is just so incredibly obnoxious.

Then a friend said that Junie B. Jones and the Yucky Blucky Fruitcake is one of the funniest books ever, and, friends, she was right. That is one hilarious book, and I can't say that I would pick Junie B. out of a line-up or take her to a desert island, but I came to terms with the presence of Junie B. in my life, and I accepted her.

Then my dad discovered Junie B. This weekend. Cousin L is about as enamoured of Junie B. as E is, and is also just now reading Junie B. on her own. We were all hanging out this weekend, and the girls were all about Junie B., and my dad was DISGUSTED. It was the grammar. It was everything. Well, actually, it was mainly the grammar, because he got about two pages into it, and refused to go any further (it was the flower girl one). Which made me think, once again, after I'd long ago resolved the issue for myself, in my usual pragmatic way, about the problem of Junie B., and thus feel compelled to share my (as usual, inconclusive) thoughts with you.