The Pages of "Hop On Pop," Ranked By Our Fourteen-Month-Old Son
Previously in baby book reviews: The pages of Goodnight Moon, ranked by our ten-month-old son. “A triumph. The “great green room” page is my baby’s favorite celebrity. He can’t believe it’s time to look at the great green room.”
The baby Rocco is fourteen months old. He now has sixteen teeth in his head, which is difficult to believe and are even more difficult to brush. He naps only once a day now, like Don Quixote, and he likes to wade in the river while one of us holds both his hands over his head, although God help you if you let him get wet past the knees.
He has also entered a delightful new imperative phase of infancy where he likes to hand us books and grunt with speechless urgency. I should say that all phases of the baby Rocco’s infancy have thus far been characterized by the imperative; it is the style and the gesture, rather than the nature of command, that is new and therefore delightful.
In the matter of books, Rocco is like a rude pagan king surrounded by literate priests he neither trusts nor is yet prepared to dismiss from his service. In all matters martial and municipal he has no need for us. Where might is called for, intrepidity, or tradition, he takes no counsel, but proceeds in the perfect security of one who knows his own birthright backwards and forwards.
But although he certainly has the fine motor skills for it, he is not content to leaf through a board book on his own, quietly enjoying the pictures or making up a narrative for himself in his curious little flow of not-quite speech. The markings must be interpreted by his court magicians.
Druid! Scribe! Leech! — You there! The book is jabbed in our direction. Interpret! Decipher! What scribblings are these? What does your god say about these markings?
We do our best. Again! The kinglet is forever testing our integrity and hoping to catch us in a lie. Again.
One of his current favorites is Hop on Pop, the truncated version made especially for the youngest of toddlers. But he does not like all pages equally, and woe betide you if you try to linger on the wrong one, for once the king’s whims have led him to discard a former favorite, he will never return to it again.
The cover of Hop on Pop is good. Yes. It soothes him. His panicked urgency subsides to a restless impatience. Now we are reading Hop on Pop, and all is right with the world for the minute. Continue, wizard.
This page does nothing for him. Send it away! I already know this part! I already know we are reading Hop on Pop! Have you nothing new to say, you tiresome old mage?
This page can only ever alleviate his ire. It cannot cure. Cup — pup — yes, first in, then on, very good. Fine. I understand this concept completely. Move on, hierophant.
Perhaps half of the time he is soothed by the “RED RED” section. The other half of the time, he tries to turn the page early. It works best if I do a funny voice for Red — nasal and gravelly, like a cross between Jimmy Cagney and Fran Drescher. But it’s best to get through this one quickly, for its magic is short-lived.
“ALL BALL” is a good page. It acts as a tonic upon the boy, much as David the son of Jesse playing upon his harp pleased the unquiet heart of Saul the king, such that he was refreshed, and was well, and the evil spirit departed from him for a time, cf. 1 Samuel 16:23, especially if I render the “ALL BALL” players’ collective voice as a sort of goofy, doglike drawl.
Another good page. He hasn’t quite landed at the “falling is funny” stage of development yet, but it’s a simple, single concept. The pages of HoP which prove most effective in entertaining the boy-king are almost invariably single-panels. The Greeks knew it, the Carthaginians knew it, now you know it.
The apogée. He may not yet find falling an occasion for laughter, but he has certainly reached the age of burlesque violence. Double biting! The biter bit! Ha ha! A very good jest, apothecary, though you yourselves do not look to be very mighty warriors. Double points if you do a growly voice for “JIM is after HIM.” He loves a comeuppance.
This page does not displease him, but it can never live up to the vicious delight of HIM JIM. There are bees, there are fish; what is a paradox to him? It fuddles the mind, all this counting and uncounting. Fish belong in the river on at table. Turn the page.
He likes this one, but you’re never going to get through all four of Pat’s actions before he turns the page decisively on your behalf, no matter how fast you try to read them. The furthest I’ve ever gotten is Pat-Cat. And you’d better believe I try to make each action sound as interesting and distinct as possible. I’ve tried gasping in surprise, emphasizing the rhymes, pretending to find hats very funny, meowing like a cat, et cetera. Just follow his lead.
He adores No, Pat, no. If I do a sort of Katharine Hepburn voice for “We like to walk, we like to talk” he demonstrates a mild interest. A strong page, even with a slightly soft ending.
Loves it. More burlesque violence! More booming “No”s — the boy delights in hearing others being reproved.
Lily points out that Pat does not deserve his children: “They’re interested in walking and talking, but all he does is sit, and he can’t even distinguish between what he’s supposed to sit on and what he isn’t. He’s not good enough for them.”
It’s fine. It’s nothing to write home about. He won’t object to sitting through it, but he’s visibly ready for the next book. Next book. Where are my conjurers? Why is no one ready for the King’s pleasure?
Brilliantly fun as usual. Bring on the burlesque violence!
~We taught our kinglet the "baby signs" for "book" and "please" which were so adorable that it alleviated our feelings of serfdom.
It never occurred to me that Pat and Pop were the same character, but now that you mention it, maybe they might be based on the ears? Maybe Pat is just Pop with gloves and his toe hair trimmed?