In the great green room…
Odds are, if you have a child, your mind filled in the rest of that sentence.
There was a telephone
And a red balloon
And a picture of —
That one too…
We own at least three copies of Goodnight Moon. One in French, two in English. There might even be a fourth bouncing around my car. It is, hands down, Little L’s favorite book.
“Moon! Moon!” She yells every night as we’re gathering up the large stack of books that will get us through her evening nebulizer treatment. It’s one of the only non-lift-the-flap book that she tolerates and definitely the only book that she doesn’t slam shut in frustration after a page or two. Nor does this particular book ever join the hefty stack of rejects hurled to the floor when they fail to entice.
She likes to point out the balloons whenever they appear and she’s discovered that she can stick her finger into the hole on the side of her mask to “hush” right along with the old lady. Then, on the last page we always linger on the image of the little mouse looking out the window.
I couldn’t tell what the huge attraction was with the book when C was enamored with it and I still can’t really tell now. Is it the sing song tone of the words? Is it the predictability of the repetition? Is it the organized approach that is so soothing to anxious toddler minds? I don’t think I’ll ever know.
Three years ago I found Goodnight Moon to be the most annoying book on our shelves. Today it’s my favorite if only because of all the memories that have imprinted themselves on the shiny pages.