Ham (22 months) is so into this book right now.
The story is basically a New York City garbage truck telling you about all his (yes, definitely HIS) features and how he picks up trash every morning. There is also an A-is-for-Apple section that is like Oscar the Grouch’s version.
When Ham got this as a gift and I read it for the first time, I was quite turned off by it. To me, it was like the literary equivalent of a big, hairy dude wearing tighty-whities and holding a machine gun. And most women I know don’t relish exclaiming “I stink!” and having to name a bunch of car parts and gross, smelly items. But in time, I started getting into it. I got in touch with my inner garbage truck. There is no way to read this book in a girlie way. You gotta get guttural and snarl out the sentences. While reading this book, I mostly have this face on:
And the more I look like that, the more Ham looks at me like this:
So, how can I refuse to read it to him. But then, at certain parts, he gets all Bravehearty and “Argh! Yeah!” and I think, Geez, take it easy, dude.