Swell and quite well.

Book 29 - A book from your childhood

Junie B. Jones and the Stupid Smelly Bus by Barbara Park

You may read the above and laugh at my book selection. If you are a member of my immediate family, you have already done so one of the times that you entered my room over the past week and observed it upon my reading stack. I assure you, this is no laughing matter. 

The Junie B. Jones books led me through my childhood. 

If I had to pick one specific author or book series that created the reader that I am today; I would pick these books. Barbara just has it all together. She really brought her A-game when she wrote the masterpieces that create Junie B. Jones' life story.

To help you understand the awesomeness that is Junie B., I have chosen two sections of this particular book to relate to you.

I must point out that although Junie B. and I share the a love of books and reading, I don't display it as outwardly as she does. If you were inside my head you may view similar opinions, but I keep it together more when I'm in public. 

The first place we walked to is called the Media Centre. My mother calls it a library. It's where the books are. And guess what? Books are my very favourite things in the whole world!

"HEY! THERE'S A JILLION OF THEM IN HERE!" I hollered, feeling very excited, "I THINK I LOVE THIS PLACE!"

The librarian bent down next to me. She said to use my quiet voice.

"YEAH, ONLY GUESS WHAT? RIGHT NOW I JUST LIKE THE KIND OF BOOKS WITH PICTURES. BUT MOTHER SAYS WHEN I GET BIG, I'M GOING TO LIKE THE KIND WITH JUST WORDS. AND ALSO, STEWED TOMATOES."

The boy I can beat up said, "Shhh."

I made a fist at him.

This second excerpt is mainly for Papa on Sunday afternoon. If you or someone you know tend to "rest your eyes", have no fear, that isn't napping. After all, napping is for babies.

I still didn't come out of the closet, though. When you're a good hider, you can't come out for a very, very long time.

I just stayed there all bend up. And I told myself a story. Not an out-loud story. I just told it inside my head. It was called "The Little Hiding Girl."

I made it up. And this is how it went:

Once upon a time there was a little hiding girl. She was in a secret spot where nobody could find her. Except her head was very tight. And her brain was squishing out.

But she still couldn't come out of her spot. Or a smelly yellow monster would get her. And also, some meanies with chocolate milk.

The end.

After that, I rested my eyes.

Resting your eyes is what my grampa does when he watches TV after dinner. Then he snores. And Grandma  Miller says, "Go to bed, Frank."

It's not the same think as a nap, though. 'Cause naps are for babies, that's why.

You don't necessarily need to read these books, (though I do suggest that you do) but if you know a child who just can't seem to find a book that's good enough; please hand them one of Barbara Park's books. She will help them love to read.

Yoga is on the horizon, this is t-bear signing off