When you’re a child, nearly any picture book that is bright and colourful and keeps your attention will be regarded as “your favourite”. But now, looking back, I can pin-point a few of the greatest.
There was And Kookaburra Laughed, which was given to me by my Nanna and Pop and always shines with that lovely memory. There’s Old Man Emu, which also carries the brilliant memory of my cousin and I sitting at our grandparents’ house and reading the book with the accompanying sing-a-long CD. And there’s Wombat Stew, which is hopefully one that someone else will remember, because it would sadden me to think that it is a book that could be forgotten.
But when it comes right down to it, my favourite picture book is The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams.
Admittedly, I may be a little biased. You see, I was in the book when I first read it. It was a birthday present from my mother; she had the book remade with details about my life inserted into the story – my name, my sister’s name, my cousins’ names, and my address. For a little bookworm-ish girl, this was just all that and a bag of cookies. I mean, c’mon: I was in the story! It just doesn’t get much more awesome than that.
It was several years before I read the story as it is meant to be read, but the fact remains that the little Velveteen Rabbit and old Skin Horse get to me every single time.
- Love The Bad Guy
