Books I Hate to Read to My Kids: Ten Little Monkeys

One of the books Jackson insisted on reading tonight was this board-book version of "Ten Little Monkeys." I would have preferred that he picked the Five Little Monkeys book, which is, well, about half as long.

That he read the book to me was a bit of a pleasure — Jackson is a good reader, after all — but it's still an exercise in repetitive torture no matter who's piloting the book. I think the story is fun for the under-2 set, but having to endure it with a 5-year-old is like having to eat baby food again.

The other problem with turning the rhyme into a book is the actual illustration of the sequence of events. I mean, look at that cover. Jackson merely rolled off our bed while he was sleeping and that turned into an ambulance ride and a morning at the hospital (he turned out OK, but very sore), so I don't exactly enjoy seeing pictures of a bed-bouncing brood.

In the book, after each monkey-child falls off the bed, we get to see that monkey-child bandaged up due to possibly brain-damaging head injuries. And we get to see the poor mother, likely a single mom, get constantly berated by the pediatrician. Where is the father? Why hasn't Child Services been called in? And why do I find myself caring so much?