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Our in-laws live an hour away. One time, MIL picked up our family after a visit when DS was 1 and gave DS' 30-lb sack of books--to be read on the trip to her house-- a disapproving/incredulous stare. When we arrived at her house, she said, "I can't believe it! You read all those books, and it was him asking for them one after another." Ummm...why else would I voluntarily slog 30lbs of children's books on a weekend visit?!

solaris, we don't have any mega-bookstores near us. We went on vacation and the hotel was near one. So, we went into a very very large Books-A-Million to look around. My DD walked in, stopped, looked around and with her jaw dropped and eyes really big says "This is better than Disney World" We had to drag her out after a couple of hours.

Only because it's genetic, and she gets her argumentative tendencies from me.





This is where I admit that I didn't care a bit about the Eye, Tower, or the Houses of Parliament so long as I could visit the legendary Hatchard's when DD and I were in London, isn't it? Why YES, I did have to carefully balance weight in our bags on the return trip. Why do you ask??

It is genetic though-- my dad always claimed that he didn't care a bit about heaven or hell so long as he could go to Powell's when he died. I smile every time I go in there, and think of him. (Sláinte, Dad.)

When you 13 year old happily spends the entire week of spring break building a huge, elaborate diorama of the Greek underworld using Peeps for the local newspaper Peeps contest.

And books... my parents could not understand when we went skiing with them annually in Colorado why my kids loved the day best when we skipped skiing, went to a great bookstore nearby, and then went for ice cream with our bags of new books. It was WAY cheaper than a day of skiing to buy them a bunch of books, and my kids liked it better.

Oh yeah-- totally off-topic, this-- but one of my MOST treasured possessions is a signed, limited edition hard-cover of Jonathon Livingston Seagull that my father purchased for me on a used-bookstore crawl when I was about eleven years old. It's the perfect totem of a perfect day, spent with someone who completely "got" what makes me tick. I'm very protective of that book.

Did you visit Foyle's too?

DD 3.75 couldn't handle Charlotte's Web a few months ago but I thought Stuart Little won't be as bad so we started reading it about a week ago. Tonight, we read the part when the little bird flies away. DD sobbed uncontrollably and cried herself to sleep.

At least I can stop worrying that she isn't comprehending what she is reading.

I really need to start pre-reading more carefully.

Did you visit Foyle's too? [/quote]

I thought the name of the bookstore in London that I got lost in was Whites but it has been almost 30 years and my memory is fading.

Charlotte's Web is deeply creepy. (Like this: http://www.snopes.com/glurge/transfuse.asp. The tl;dr is in the last paragraph.) It's supposed to be all profound and inspirational, but only if you don't think through its premises: Animals are intelligent and aware of their futures, but humans slaughter them anyway. Wilbur is trapped in the nightmare landscape of Pig Auschwitz. In the end, he is allowed to live because he is considered exceptional, more deserving than the rest of his kind. He grows old in the Land of Gruesome Pig Death, watching generations of younger pigs go to the slaughterhouse. The family come scratch his ears with the smell of bacon on their breath.

Basically, E.B. White is trying to have it both ways, creating an alternative world where we see things through the animals' eyes, but not having to challenge any of his cherished ideas of wholesome American farm life.

So yeah, smart kids are less likely to find Charlotte's Web heart-warming.

(Okay, I win the prize for furthest off topic.)

LOL-- DD and I both prefer Watership Down, if you're going to go there with the personification model.

I just never could make SENSE of CW, myself-- for the reasons that MegMeg lists, probably. I also didn't quite grasp how Fern could be so incredibly stupid-- dumber than a spider, evidently.


No to Foyle's, (or 221B Baker) but there was that little place across from The British Museum, where I excitedly took a photo of the Caldecott plaque on Great Russell St. I loved the blue plaques-- it was like walking through a large museum with lovely surprise displays at every turn. I suspect that most people don't tour London in this particular manner, but we enjoyed it. I also snapped photos of Loo of the Year awards, simply because I found those so amusingly British, somehow.