Sigh. The revised edition.

We went to the library yesterday after school.  I helped Hannah pick out some learning-to-read books appropriate to her skill level, then left her with the picture books while I went to grab my book off the Hold shelf.  When I returned to the children's area I could see Hannah sitting in a big arm chair with a stack of books, studiously poring over one.  Loveliest sight in the world.  As I drew closer I saw that she was reading a Toy Story book (not too disturbing), and had another sitting right beside her called

I didn't know whether she'd yet read it, and I was not familiar with that name at the time, but, as noted in my previous post, the child picks her own literature, such as it is.  After a bit, she selected the books she was taking home; also in the stack:

You win some, you lose some.  We proceeded to check out, using the awesome self-check station.  Hannah loves that thing. Except when it won't read the tired bar-code stickers. Which was yesterday. Alas.

When we read her books later that evening, I was delighted to learn about Amelia Bloomer and her righteous objections to petticoats and street-dragging skirts.  I'm not sure Hannah was as interested in the story, the the paintings are sweepingly beautiful, and the type-setting is artistic, so it kept her attention.  The princess stories, as the title implies, take only 5 minutes, so they don't have to hold mine.

Ahhh.  Sneaky feminism and literature!  God bless you, Scholastic Press.

Tomorrow maybe I'll stop griping about little girl story books.
No promises, though.