Futility

The next time you are feeling especially clever, try explaining the poles of a planet to a four year old. Weston has about 9,634 pounds of space books, and every one of them has pictures of planets rotating about their poles.

Weston: But what do they look like?
Me: Well, you can't really see them.
Weston: Are they pretend?
Me: No, they're real. It's a place on the planet, on the top and bottom, that the planet spins around. Look, I'll show you with this ball and my fingers (spin ball with index finger on top and bottom). See?
Weston: Yes, I see. What do they look like?

And the fascinating but impossible to explain pictures are not the only problem with the space books, I'm sorry to report. I wrote a post a while back about how sometimes I have to improvise while reading aloud, because I find some children's books are not particularly suitable for my small children. You can read it here. I didn't realize I had to watch out for the science books, too, but they are chock full of sex and violence. The planets are all named after Roman gods: Venus (goddess of love and romance. What's that, mommy?), Mars (named after the god of war, because the red color reminded the ancients of BLOOD and FIRE), and Pluto (god of death and the icy underworld. Nightmares, anyone?).

Books, bah humbug. Sponge Bob looks more appealing every day.