As you might have inferred from my profile description over there to the left, the Little House books were a big, big deal to me as a kid. I read them over and over. And over. I tried making some of the recipes (despite the lack of actual instructions or complete lists of ingredients). I had a real oil lantern in my bedroom, for God's sake. Not that I ever actually used it, but it went with my hideous fake patchwork quilt bedspread.
I wanted to be Laura Ingalls Wilder. And now that I live a life much closer to hers than your average modern person, I am devoutly glad I am NOT her. What a drag, man, what with the malaria and the plagues of grasshoppers and the lack of indoor plumbing.
Still, they are excellent stories. And I still have my complete set of the Little House books.
Cubby pulled Little House in the Big Woods off the bookshelf in our bedroom a couple of weeks ago and asked what it was. So I sat down and started reading it to him.
The Laura books--as he calls them--are now his favorite thing. Little House in the Big Woods is not so far removed from his realm of experience, what with the stories of Pa hunting and trapping and making maple syrup and all. Little House on the Prairie* was exciting to him because of the covered wagon, an idea that obviously appealed to him greatly.
We're halfway through Farmer Boy right now, and so far he seems to be most captivated by the description of ice cutting in the pond. The fact that we actually have one of those huge cross-cut saws and ice tongs similar to the ones described in the book is a bonus.
There are a lot of things about motherhood that are hard in quite unexpected ways, but sitting on the couch sharing my beloved Little House books with my son? That's pretty hard to beat.
* I must admit to cravenly skipping most of the parts of this book describing the Indians. Because it's really quite shockingly racist, and I don't feel like trying to explain to a three-year-old why Ma thought the only good Indian was a dead Indian. Nice, Ma. Real nice.
Best series ever. I loved them and my kids loved the "Laura" books too!
ReplyDeleteCubby never ceases to amaze with his ability to focus and stay interested in books not really geared to his age group. Guess it's kind of like the story telling around the fire in the old days; just not the old days.
ReplyDeleteHowever, looking at your lifestyle and the vastly changed technology, in some areas y'all are not that far removed from the period books stories. Not a bad thing in some ways (granted, there's always the hot water, or water in general, thing) but that's only my humble opinion, of course.
Those books are such a wonderful set of stories for all ages. Now (adult), I read them when I need to reduce my stress and remind myself that the entire world is not competitive and mean. Cubby won't soon find better reading!
ReplyDeleteYou'll have to make a trip to Malone, NY to visit the Almanzo Wilder homestead. The original house is still there. The barns were rebuilt. There's a lot of room to run around and a stream to play in.
ReplyDeleteRose: I've been to the Wilder homestead in Malone. If I weren't so unapologetically nerdy about all of this, I would be embarrassed to admit how exciting I found it. I knew more than the (high-school-age) tour guide.
ReplyDeleteA. was also kind enough to take me once to the L.I.W. museum in Minnesota and to the site of their dugout on Plum Creek (when we were in the area for something else, not as a dedicated trip--NOT THAT THERE'S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT). Neither of those was as good as the site in Malone, though.