Many moons ago, I was a tow headed sprout among the ranks of the first generation of kids who grew up with the lovable, educational antics of Sesame Street. It was the best part if my morning when I was a very little girl. My mom broke the mold and went back to work when I was six months old, so I went to Mary’s house. Mary was a childhood friend of my mom’s. I remember a few things about those days. I remember being a bit afraid of Mary’s giant German Shepherd, and even more so of her grinch husband. I remember laying the foundation of a lifelong hatred of Cheerios. There are always some downsides to being placed in an “alien” environment I guess.
On the plus side though, I remember loving Mary fiercely. I loved her beautiful red hair, which my mom would style into a massive beehive updo that held for the week with the addition of a shellacking of hairspray. Most of all, daily dose of Cheerios choked down, I remember settling down in front of their “giant” TV (the actual screen was probably about the size of my computer monitor, but the console was huge) to watch Sesame Street.
Big Bird, Ernie and Bert, Kermit, Oscar the Grouch, and my personal fave…Grover. A furry little blue guy who was always well meaning, but often a bit neurotic and definitely a little spastic as he flew off the handle, skinny arms flailing over something or another. I thought Grover was hilarious, so I was delighted when my mom turned up at bedtime one night with this
My mom read the story of how Grover is frightened of monsters, and he how tries a variety of methods – tying pages together, nailing pages down, building a brick wall – to keep the reader from turning the pages and reaching the monster at the end.
All to no avail as the reader keeps turning pages despite Grover’s constructions and arm waving histrionics. I remember being a little leery the first time my mom read the book to me…why was Grover so afraid? Should we turn that last page?
As it turns out…
There was never anything to be scared of at all! I loved this story as a child, and I loved reading it to my own kids, their laughter at Grover’s antics was infectious. I was talking about donating this book with my mom and MiniMe the other day. My mom remembered it fondly…ours was a battle scarred Little Golden Books version. I asked MiniMe if she remembered it and she said, “Yes, and I read it to a little girl in the church nursery last week.”
Four generations of Grover love is a beautiful thing!