I distinctly remember being introduced to the Amelia Bedelia series of books in the first grade. At the time, I thought it was the most charming, witty, and hilarious prose ever to come out of our elementary school library.
I hadn’t thought about Amelia in many years, until I ran across a compilation of three stories on the clearance table at one of our local bookstores a couple of years ago. I snapped it up, and I enjoyed reading about her antics to my then-three-month old girlies.
Amelia had gotten tucked back on a shelf, until one of the girls dug her out a few days ago. “New book! Haven’t seen in while!” they exclaimed. And of course we had to read it right away.
I realized quickly that the storyline was lost on the girls. The idea of dusting the furniture…with powder…instead of actually cleaning it…was not charming, or witty, or hilarious to them. And on the off-chance they were taking notes, I surely didn’t want to plant that little seed in their heads!
It may have just been a coincidence, but we had what I think was our first Amelia Bedelia moment over the weekend.
We were getting ready to go out to dinner, and I was washing some grapes to take with us. I was gabbing along to the girls in explanation. “If a restaurant doesn’t have fruit on their menu, then Mommy takes fruit with us, so we can eat it after our meal.”
Immediately, from the den: “Fruit not on menu! Fruit on [Baby A]’s plate!”
Duh, Mom. Everyone knows you don’t put fruit on a menu. It goes on a plate, and we eat it from there.