Is it a dunce cap? Or maybe a mesh trucker hat that says "I'm with Stupid" and has an arrow pointing straight down? These are the only two possibilities I can envision author Margaret Miller wearing when she penned this craptastic picture book.
THREE PROS
*In theory, it's cute to see babies and toddlers with goofy things resting on their heads
*The kids hired onto this project didn't know any better
*It only took me about eight seconds to be done with it
THREE CONS
*Parenting magazine deemed this title worthy of a 1998 Book of the Year award -- allowing the publisher to slap a little emblem on the cover and, thus, robbing a certain percentage of the American public of some hard-earned money
*If only 25% of the kids pictured can be sold on this being worth mustering a smile, she should have probably gone back to the drawing board
*Even the plush animals (did we really need more than one page of these or is she that supremely uncreative) and the rubber ducky seem like they have a case of the blahs
ONE DAD'S OPINION
Maybe a better question is "what's going on in my head after reading this?" Rage and outrage seem to be the answers here. While rage is usually the more visceral reaction of the two, I don't believe that's the case here. I am somehow able to contain most of my anger in a tiny little box labeled 'WTF' that lays just to the left of my cerebral cortex. The outrage, however, seems to be leaking out every orifice of my head. How could she feel good about this? How can I ever trust Parenting again? And for that matter, how can we believe any award in this industry since there seems to be a history of poorly chosen winners across various juries. There's only one way to relieve my tension -- it's time to recycle this affront to both mankind & the poor trees that gave up their lives to make it.
ONE DAD'S OPINION
Maybe a better question is "what's going on in my head after reading this?" Rage and outrage seem to be the answers here. While rage is usually the more visceral reaction of the two, I don't believe that's the case here. I am somehow able to contain most of my anger in a tiny little box labeled 'WTF' that lays just to the left of my cerebral cortex. The outrage, however, seems to be leaking out every orifice of my head. How could she feel good about this? How can I ever trust Parenting again? And for that matter, how can we believe any award in this industry since there seems to be a history of poorly chosen winners across various juries. There's only one way to relieve my tension -- it's time to recycle this affront to both mankind & the poor trees that gave up their lives to make it.
Buy / Borrow / Donate / DESTROY
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