All the single llamas

We haven't yet had the pleasure of reading all the books in the Llama Llama series by Anna Dewdney four thousand times each, so I could be wrong on this theory, but I am pretty sure we are watching a single llama parent-child dynamic unfolding in these stories. In Llama Llama Mad at Mama, we are treated to a Saturday shopping trip with the Llama duo and the inevitable llama drama that results.

I am confident that Ms. Llama is a single, working llama for the simple reason that no co-parenting llama would bring her offspring to Shop-O-Rama on a weekend by choice. As a stay-at-home llama, I do my Shop-O-Rama shopping with my little llamas (if I even have to take them) on weekday mornings when I don't have to navigate crowds on top of potential llama drama from my children. But it's Saturday morning and Ms. Llama knows the applesauce squeezers, which are the only fruit Baby Llama is eating without bitching these days, are running low, and even though Ms. Llama would way rather make herself a Bloody Mary and watch Baby Llama enjoy his blocks and puzzles, there is no rest for the single llama.

I used to get kind of pissed off at Ms. Llama for rewarding Baby Llama's shopping cart party with the promised ice cream cone afterwards anyway, but now I'm okay with it. Ms. Llama probably doesn't get a whole lot of opportunity to just kick it with her kid and do something for the pure joy of it. So go enjoy ice cream with your newly-shoed llama dude. You deserve some fun, you hard-working single llama!

Goodnight guest room

I've read Goodnight Moon literally twenty times today. The repetition has given me ample time to reflect on Bunny's story, and I speculate that Bunny is overnighting at his grandparents' house. He is staying in the guest room. His grandparents have tried to make it kid-friendly with the addition of lame-looking toys, but there is the obvious hazard of the open (and lit) fireplace, and the telephone, the latter capable of rousing Bunny from his slumber and no parent will stand for either.I know it was the 1940s when this book was written, but even back then people called each other at 8 o'clock at night. I would further posit that the tiger skin rug is child's room inappropriate but guest room appropriate as both conversation piece and "we have nowhere else to put this goddamn tiger skin rug." I believe that with further research, it will be proven that Bunny's grandfather was a big game hunter back before such things became unpopular.

I also believe that "the quiet old lady" is his grandmother because she is putting up with his exhaustive ritual of saying goodnight to everything in the room. Instead of saying "YOU ALREADY SAID GOODNIGHT TO THE MITTENS!" through gritted teeth as parents might, thinking longingly of their Netflix queue and glass of Shiraz downstairs, the grandmother soothingly whispers "hush" multiple times while working on some knitting. Also, oh my god, it takes Bunny ONE HOUR to go through this goodnight ritual. Check the clocks on the first page and last page of the book. No parent is going to put up with that crap.

Finally, I believe that there is a pest control problem in Bunny's grandparents' house, as evidenced by the presence of the mouse in the room and the kittens' ignoring of the vermin. The kittens have obviously already eaten their share of mice in other rooms of the house. I believe that parents would have this mouse problem under control because of their heightened awareness and ability to handle the issue. I say this without judgement of the elderly, but sometimes things like that can just get out of hand for them. Observant readers will note that toward the end of the book the mouse helps himself to the bowl full of mush on the nightstand, mush being a food grandparents might serve as "it was good enough for [them]" as children. It is clear that Bunny feels differently, however, as the mush bowl seems untouched, also indicating that Bunny may be unwilling to try new foods in different environments.