I picked up this kids book from the Costco book collection a few months back and it instantly became my favorite kids' book the first time I read it.
Here is a quick synopsis of the book:
From the moment Penny, Polly, and Molly hatch from their eggs, the whole farm knows they are truly tough chicks. They wrestle worms, rope roosters, and are often found under the hood of the tractor. All the other animals and even the farmer himself tell Mama Hen to make her chicks good. "They are good!" Mama Hen replies. But could her chicks be too loud, too independent, and too tough?
This is a very cute story about some "tough chicks" that do not behave like the other chicks. These chicks are always up to something and curious about everything around them. Everyone tells them to be good, but in the end, having tough chicks around saves the day. The book can have different interpretations for different people. Popular opinion says it is a resounding feminist endorsement for letting girls be girls (even if they're loud and tough and like to play with tractors.)
I have a different interpretation:
I love the book because it reminds me of my free spirited, sometimes rambunctious, always over-energetic boys who often seem like a menace in social settings. I feel the worlds' stares asking me to "Make them be good" like in the book. I reply "But they ARE good !". But I worry they may be too wild for their own good.
My spouse tells me it takes one to know one: friends who have grown up in an all-brothers family setting with short age gaps understand when they see our sons squabbling but not everyone gets that sometimes boys need to be boys.
My boys are inquisitive, stubborn, and extremely independent. They are 17 months apart and feed off of each others' energy. I take them to the sandbox and find them throwing sand on each other moments later. I'm folding laundry and I find sand, pebbles, snail shells in their pockets: like they want to bring the outdoors home with them. I find them performing surgery on their bikes and trucks. They play so hard with all their remote control toys, smashing them into walls and bumping them into furniture that the toys break down within a few days (if not hours) of opening them. They chase puppies in the park trying to pet them, often scaring them off or setting off a barking fit. They turn on water outlets in the backyard and frontyard, having an impromptu sprinkler party. They throw their soft toys at the chandelier to check if the toy will get caught in it and then use the Swiffer stick to knock it back down on the ground. They know how to push my buttons and give me anxiety attacks.
I often find myself wishing they could be more like their peers who are calmer, quieter, more low-key. This story, about a mother hen’s faith (and occasional doubt) in her trio of “tough chicks” is a reminder that my rough-and-tumble sons are each special the way that they are. That someday those characteristics that are frustrating now will maybe become the things that are most admirable about them (I hope). That my kids may not do things like other kids, but they each have impressive and unique qualities that I am excited to see mature. That someday, the same curiosity that makes them take apart a remote control truck, will feed an innovative mind to do something creative or novel.
To the world: Being different isn't bad. Being tough isn't bad. Being curious isn't bad. Be more accepting of kids who don't fit the mold. Think of the Robots quote: "You can shine no matter what you're made of !"
From the moment Penny, Polly, and Molly hatch from their eggs, the whole farm knows they are truly tough chicks. They wrestle worms, rope roosters, and are often found under the hood of the tractor. All the other animals and even the farmer himself tell Mama Hen to make her chicks good. "They are good!" Mama Hen replies. But could her chicks be too loud, too independent, and too tough?
This is a very cute story about some "tough chicks" that do not behave like the other chicks. These chicks are always up to something and curious about everything around them. Everyone tells them to be good, but in the end, having tough chicks around saves the day. The book can have different interpretations for different people. Popular opinion says it is a resounding feminist endorsement for letting girls be girls (even if they're loud and tough and like to play with tractors.)
I have a different interpretation:
I love the book because it reminds me of my free spirited, sometimes rambunctious, always over-energetic boys who often seem like a menace in social settings. I feel the worlds' stares asking me to "Make them be good" like in the book. I reply "But they ARE good !". But I worry they may be too wild for their own good.
My spouse tells me it takes one to know one: friends who have grown up in an all-brothers family setting with short age gaps understand when they see our sons squabbling but not everyone gets that sometimes boys need to be boys.
My boys are inquisitive, stubborn, and extremely independent. They are 17 months apart and feed off of each others' energy. I take them to the sandbox and find them throwing sand on each other moments later. I'm folding laundry and I find sand, pebbles, snail shells in their pockets: like they want to bring the outdoors home with them. I find them performing surgery on their bikes and trucks. They play so hard with all their remote control toys, smashing them into walls and bumping them into furniture that the toys break down within a few days (if not hours) of opening them. They chase puppies in the park trying to pet them, often scaring them off or setting off a barking fit. They turn on water outlets in the backyard and frontyard, having an impromptu sprinkler party. They throw their soft toys at the chandelier to check if the toy will get caught in it and then use the Swiffer stick to knock it back down on the ground. They know how to push my buttons and give me anxiety attacks.
I often find myself wishing they could be more like their peers who are calmer, quieter, more low-key. This story, about a mother hen’s faith (and occasional doubt) in her trio of “tough chicks” is a reminder that my rough-and-tumble sons are each special the way that they are. That someday those characteristics that are frustrating now will maybe become the things that are most admirable about them (I hope). That my kids may not do things like other kids, but they each have impressive and unique qualities that I am excited to see mature. That someday, the same curiosity that makes them take apart a remote control truck, will feed an innovative mind to do something creative or novel.
To the world: Being different isn't bad. Being tough isn't bad. Being curious isn't bad. Be more accepting of kids who don't fit the mold. Think of the Robots quote: "You can shine no matter what you're made of !"
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| My wild animals |
