. . . when you think about SEUSS!
Initially when I think about Dr. Seuss I think about the hours I spent cuddling on the couch as Theodore and I partnered in my earliest literacy efforts with our sweet boys. These are very fond thinks, I must say. I think about how they would request the same books over and over and about how we all knew them by heart. Their favorites being Green Eggs and Ham, One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish, and later, Hans’s beloved Fox in Socks.
I think about MY favorite Dr. Seuss book, Horton Hatches an Egg, and the look my children have all inevitably given me when I am caught off guard by my emotions and can barely continue reading because of the lump in my throat and the tears in my eyes. The frustration and sense of injustice I feel toward that lazy Mayzie LaBird and the audacity of her accusation that Horton stole her egg. Our children are spaced far enough apart that, between readings, I seem to forget the ending to the story and always feel so relieved and grateful when an Elephant Bird actually hatches from the egg for which Horton so lovingly sacrificed with dedication. At that point, every time I read this story, never fail, I feel an endearing love for Mr. Seuss, thankful for his insight and validation.
Last year around this time I had the privilege of adding some new thinks to my repertoire of Dr. Seuss thinks as our three sons were involved in Glacier Peak High School’s Seussical the Musical—David and Leif rocking it in the orchestra pit and Hans on stage as a Jungle Citizen. What a thrilling and fulfilling experience it was! I will think of the abundance of talent displayed not only by the students but the numerous adults involved too. Wow. I will think, with fondness, of all the adults and parents who selflessly gave of their time and talents. I will think of how hard everyone worked to make it a success.
I will think of Britta’s wide-eyed expression of awe as she finally got to see the musical on the final night after living and breathing (and dancing to) the soundtrack for months beforehand. I will think about how it was like she was at Disneyland, so excited to be hugging her favorite characters, insisting on giving everyone “Great job!” treats. I will think of bright pink speck-on-a-clover cake pops and Britta’s generosity toward Thing 1 and Thing 2. I will think about how she wants to be Gertrude when she grows up . . . or a dancing fish with a sparkly blue dress.
I will think of the important lessons I gleaned from the musical itself, wisely reminding me to “Follow (my) hunch” more often . . . and strengthening my resolve during those times when I feel “Alone in the Universe” and I must “stand on my own . . . (then) so be it.” I will think about how I have committed myself to being accepting of others even when they are thinking “different than us.” My biggest, most grand think of all though was the moment when I looked at my tall, thin, young man on stage—clad in leopard pants and fur—with his angular face and big brown eyes. In astonishment I couldn’t help but think “Why . . . he looks just like me.” I was stunned . . . and ever so grateful.
Happy Belated Dr. Seuss. Thanks for the thinks.
My boys in the pit. Leif on the violin and . . .
David on the keyboard.
Britta, thrilled to be with the Cat in the Hat.
Hans . . . my sweet “Elephant Bird.”