"It’s important for children to find a book that they can have a unique and private connection with, just as they do with a special friend," said the Governor General. "The book becomes a child’s secret garden or undercover adventure. This year’s prize-winning books encourage such marvelous friendships to grow."
I'm not familiar with the work of any of the prizewinners. The images by winners in the illustration category are stunning (English and French).
I've missed a Canadian book week for children, and such a week is ongoing in the United States ("Since 1919, educators, librarians, booksellers, and families have celebrated Children's Book Week during the week before Thanksgiving.").
Maybe it's because Helena's not yet school age, or because I frequent bookshops more than I do libraries, that I've let news of such events pass me by. But then, I celebrate books all year round; I expect Helena will incorporate them into her daily life; we don't need a special week for books.
Helena was up crying and tantrum-y from 10 to about 1 last night. There goes my plan to get to bed early. I'm crossing my fingers this behaviour will disappear within a few days, that she simply needs to readjust to sleeping by herself in her own bed, that the normalcy and routine of daycare, meals, and sleep will prevail.
I checked on her a few times to re-tuck her in. After I suggested she might need a diaper change, she spent an hour screaming "poo poo." When I double-checked the thermostat and commented, "You don't find it cold in here, do you?" she switched to "Cold. Cold!" Later it was a whimpering "dark."
I'm getting better at ignoring her cries, and for longer stretches, but it's emotionally exhausting.
Thankfully, the manuscript I was expecting to work on this week has been delayed.
I must go shopping. Imperative.
After doing 4 loads of laundry yesterday, I was inspired to give the shower curtain a rinse. I destroyed it. Shredded to pieces. The grommetted seam held together, so I thought we should at least hang what's left for temporary coverage — it turns out this jagged swath of blue palm trees, maybe 3 feet at its widest, no longer serves any function whatsoever, except as a reminder of the lovely time I had visiting my sister in D.C. some 2 and a half years ago when she purchased said shower curtain for me at a Pottery Barn. Sigh.
Tomorrow's picture day at the daycare. J-F and I have slightly different ideas about how to dress our child for the event. J-F wants "pretty," leaning toward fancy; I'm all for nice and normal. (Helena's not a big fan of tights, but then I always thought they were rather ridiculous on small girls and have some recollection of how grossly uncomfortable they were, so maybe I'm projecting a little without allowing her to fully explore and enjoy her wardrobe.) J-F also really loves plaid (though I've never seen him wear any) and thinks that's kind of dressy, whereas I don't care for it. So I may have to go buy Helena a compromise outfit. And shoes. The only shoes she has are sneakers and galoshes, and neither will do.
Also, I should do something about my intense craving for Pop Tarts.
I am in fact dreading any shopping excursion I make today, the only up side being the opportunity to wear the fabulous (and sexy) coat my mother bought me as an early birthday present and the outrageously comfortable shoes I'd treated myself to.