My favorite wild things

If I'd been on a game show last week, there are three questions I know I would have gotten wrong:

• Who is the award-winning author of the children's book Where The Wild Things Are?
• Who is Maurice Sendak?
• Is Maurice Sendak still alive?

And yet when I heard yesterday that he'd died, which is what made me think of him at all, I couldn't help but feel a certain sadness.

I love his book!

I can remember reading it, or at least having had it read to me, in the cool tree house reading room at Earle Brown Elementary School. Quite honestly, I don't know if I understood back then that the story of Max's imaginary trip was just a dream.

But I've had plenty of opportunities since to read the book and figure it out. Probably somewhere i the ballpark of 100+ opportunities. Because that's how many times I think I've read the book to a new generation of fans, who were only two happy last night to demonstrate their versions of wild things.

 

There's something magical about the story. When I suggested reading it at bedtime last night, AJ at first rolled his eyes. "There's not that many words, Mom," said the boy who now reads chapter books and thus has clearly advanced beyond a picture book.

But Sydney liked the idea and so, when we settled on the couch, AJ dutifully climbed over next to us as I began.

"The night Max wore his wolf suit and made mischief of one kind

and another"

(we always must pause at this point to note how much the dog Max is chasing looks like Grandpa and Grandma's dog Dudley.)

The story continued and AJ became engrossed as I knew he would. On the page where Max boards a boat, AJ pointed out as he always does that the boat says M-A-X.

"And when he came to the place where the wild things are

they roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth

and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws

till Max said..."

"Quiet!" AJ shouted.

Apparently it's been too long since we last read this book. AJ is losing his touch. I showed him the words to read and we tried again.

"till Max said..."

"BE STILL!" AJ got it right this time.

When we got to the pages without words, showing the wild things having their wild rumpus, the kids howled the sounds they figured a wild thing might make as they showed their terrible claws.

At last we finished the book and it was time for my wild things to calm down and go to bed. What a gift Mr. Sendak had to write and illustrate a book that appeals to both children and parents. I can't think of another book we've read that many times that I haven't wanted to hide and/or destroy to avoid ever having to read again. And what a gift he has given to us all to create a book that connects us with such wonderful memories. Even if I didn't pay attention to his name until after he died.