Your favorite books are the books that come to life. It's not so much the words as it is the worlds.
Little Lamb is your favorite. It's a finger puppet book with a lamb poking its white-fleece head through the middle of its cardboard-thick pages. Life is all pink picket fences and sun rays for Little Lamb, imagining what games to play and what animals those rosy-pink clouds look like. But it's not the whimsy that captures your imagination. It's the finger-waggled lamb in the middle, sniffing flowers and chasing butterflies. Plus there's all that gazing.
Your mom has memorized Little Lamb and can 'read' it without seeing the pages. Your mom's voice leaps when Little Lamb leaps. She breathes in deep, comical and swarthy when Little Lamb wanders upon some daisies. And her voice trails to a lilt when the book does what's it's supposed to do at the end and puts you to bed by saying, "Goodnight, Little Lamb, the day is done. Shh!"
So your dad bought Little Lion. Your mom has to quiet him down, since you naturally want to growl and grrr as Little Lion dons a crown and reels in the fact that it's good to be king. You shake with giggles throughout, lions or lambs.
