I’ve read a few of the children’s books recently and they are Pablum. Vanilla pudding. “Can’t we all get along?” “I feel your pain”. “Don’t hurt anybody’s feelings.”
Bull.
I remember when children’s books were exciting, and they didn’t always turn out peaches and cream. Hansel and Gretel got kicked out of their own house and ended up cooking a witch in her own oven. Little Black Sambo watched from a tree while the three tigers chased each other so fast they turned to butter. And Black Sambo ate the tiger butter on a big stack of pancakes.
Now we’re talking.
In the original Three Little Pigs book, the two pigs that built their house of sticks and straw got themselves gobbled up by the big Bad Wolf. The third Little Pig, however, caught the Wolf sliding down the chimney and boiled him alive.
My favorite children’s story was “The Gingerbread Man.”
The Gingerbread Man was a little twit. He was supposed to be lunch for an old man and old lady and a little boy, but he snuck out of the house and outran a slew of pursuers including the old man, the old woman, the little boy, two well-diggers, a bear, and a wolf.
He was obnoxious about the whole thing and bragged about how fast his cookie legs could carry him. Eventually, the Gingerbread Man met his match when a sly fox lured him close enough to gobble him down.
There was no, “I’ll let you go if you promise to be good” stuff. The Fox ate him. Sugar eyes, sugar nose and mouth – every last crumb.
The moral of the story is twofold – gingerbread is really good, and don’t be a horse’s butt lest you get eaten by a sly old fox.