Fly, Fly Away

Tonight's bedtime stories included two books involving flying characters: Foo, the Flying Frog of Washtub Pond (in which the title character gets blown into the sky by a gust of wind), and The Magic Brush. The latter is a dead-grandparent book, but ends with a cheerful picture of the kids reunited with their grandfather in their imagination, riding a flying horse. The Pip didn't pick up on the death bit, luckily for me.

"Look at them, Daddy, they're flying!"

"Yep. They're on a flying horse."

"But why are they flying?"

"Why? Well, because flying would be a lot of fun."

"I wish I could fly."

"Yeah, that would be cool."

"When a big gust of wind comes along, it's going to blow me away up into the sky, and then I'll be flying!"

"What? I hope not!"

"Why not?"

"Well, if a gust of wind blew you away, I'd miss you, and be sad."

"I won't go far away. The wind will blow me up into the sky, and I'll be flying, but when the wind goes away, I'll come down and land. On a farm."

"You're going to land on a farm?"


"That's a good plan. What's going to be on this farm?"

"Goats. And sheep, and cows, and horses, and pigs. And wildebeestes."



"Sounds like an interesting farm. But how will you get home from the farm?"

"Well, I'll just walk. Walk, walk walk, all the way home from the farm." (Accompanied by walking-finger gestures.)


"It's a really long way from the farm, though, so I'd rather take an airplane, and fly home."

"Yeah, that makes sense."

"Fly, fly, fly, in a big gust of wind!"

And then he spent a while simulating wind gusts:

The Pip simulates a big gust of wind. The Pip simulates a big gust of wind.

He's a Pip with a plan.

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The dead-grandparent book came home because I had ten minutes to spend the library, and five of those were taken by (1) discovering that I didn't owe a fine after all and (2) finding two _Wild Kratts_ DVDs and an Elephant & Piggie book they hadn't read yet, plus one he'd been asking for (_I Will Surprise My Friend_).

So for the rest of the expected stack of books I grabbed some seasonal picture books and some that appeared to be by non-European authors, flipped through them at extremely high speed to make sure they weren't ugly or too long, and then bolted for the self-checkout.

Ordinarily our library trips are in a little less of a hurry and I can vet the books a little more closely, just so we aren't taken by surprise with dead relatives.

By Kate Nepveu (not verified) on 26 Jan 2015 #permalink