Down with Seuss

Written by Amy, a mom without a blog

Please. Hear me out before you start your protest.

Let me start by painting a picture for you.

It’s 8pm. The kids still aren’t in bed. At the last minute you’re rushing around trying to make sure all the teeth get brushed, jammies are on, faces are moderately clean before you get your few moments of silence in the house and actually get to finish a full conversation with your hubby, relax on the sofa, or polish off the bottom of the chocolate moose tracks ice-cream you’ve been fantasizing about all day.

“One book,” you yell to your kids (because it’s late and you’re already over the whole nightly routine.)

And then it happens … your son brings you Fox in Socks by none other than the legendary, Dr. Seuss.

Are you FRICKIN’ kidding me?

In my opinion, this is a book born right out of the burning fires of hell. Its 61 pages of pure torture. That’s worth repeating … 6 – 1 pages of tongue twisters that make your mind and your mouth spin out of control spewing complete nonsense like …. “When a fox is in the bottle where the tweetle beetles battle with their paddles in a puddle on a noodle-eating poodle, THIS is what they call … a tweetle beetle noodle poodle bottled paddled muddled duddled fuddled wuddled fox in socks, sir.”


I can hear you now. You’re saying “Ah come on. That’s not too bad. Think of the creative juices it’s stirring in your eager youngster.” Oh yeah lady, well try reading 61 effing pages of that night after night. I’ve got some creative juices stirring on the thousands of ways I can dispose of this book (although I don’t have time to go there now). And besides, isn’t there some law against throwing a burning book into a burning building while shouting profanities that DON’T rhyme? Ahh, how liberating. I digress.

Yes, our beloved Dr. Seuss has produced some absolute masterpieces. Oh the Places You’ll Go is an all-time, heart-warming best-seller. Although in that fine work of art, he could have been kind enough to warn us we might GO to nonsensical, tongue twister hell.

I do think he may have gotten just a bit of twisted joy out of writing Fox in Socks and thinking about the millions of parents around the world struggling night after night with reaching the end of this epic, nerve-wracking, bedtime story.

Thanks Dr. Seuss. That’s just what I needed at the end of my very long, zong, cong, mong, waddy, laddy, saddy, traddy, silly, willy, trilly very LOOOOOOOONG day.

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