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Being a Dad

Of all the books we received, only one came in duplicate. My husband and I received two copies of "The Giving Tree."

This book has a vexed history. Shel Silverstein, a real weirdo and a strong critic of tales-with-morals, might really have wanted to depict sadism and masochism. He might have wanted just to show two odd ducks who find each other, and who get off on giving and taking. He might not have wanted to deliver a lecture to parents.

But "The Giving Tree" has been co-opted. There's now an idea that you, as the parent, should be the relentlessly martyred tree; you should offer your branches, your leaves, your apples, your trunk to the rapacious child, until there's only a little nub of you left. This is why "The Giving Tree"--beloved in some corners--is also one of the most hated books in America.

I have, also, a book where the mother bear continuously deprives herself for the baby. "I am your wait," she says to her baby. "You are my wiggle." In other words: I will model tireless patience for you, Baby, and you get to go wild and dance. One wonders: Couldn't *both* the mom *and* the baby be "wiggles"?

Another page: "I am your carriage ride," says the mother to the baby, "and you are my king." On this page, the baby seems to have enslaved the mother: The mother is crawling on all fours, like an elephant, while Baby Hannibal makes triumphant gestures up above. (This makes me think of my mother shuttling me to band practice and to play rehearsals throughout my education. "YOU are my carriage ride, Lady. I'll be the king.")

When I read the memoir "Wild," several years ago, I had a strong reaction to the parent. The parent--Laura Dern, in the movie version--seems to have financial troubles, and yet she puts herself back into school; she resumes her studies, to obtain a degree in something having to do with gender. Wouldn't it be better, I wondered, if she worked on securing opportunities for her daughter? But I have a different reaction now. I imagine it was helpful for young Cheryl Strayed to see her mom back in college--to see her mom pursuing learning. "I'd rather be a hammer than a nail." Modeling ambition, drive, curiosity: This is a gift to a child.

I'm not sure how often I'll be reading "The Giving Tree" with my baby in the years to come.

I do think it might be nice, one day, if we could read "Wild" together.
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