Earlier this week, I left the Sprogs in my osteo’s waiting room with a Spongebob Squarepants app on my iPad and a bag of Tiny Teddies to amuse themselves. I’m all class. I came out to discover Sprog 1 with her head buried in a book called “A Field Guide To Monsters”. She found it among the waiting room magazines.
If there’s anything guaranteed to get Sprog 1 excited, its stuff about monsters. She’s profoundly disappointed that the other girls at school are into (sneer) “fairies and ponies”. The osteo enthused with Sprog 1 about what a great book it was and lent it to her until my next visit. Canny.
Yesterday, Sprog 1 wandered out of bed and asked Husband if he knew about a man who is “dysfunctional” and tells himself what to do in his mother’s voice and spies on ladies when they are naked in the shower. Husband said, “Is his name Alfred Bates?” and Sprog 1 said, “No, Norman.”
Husband flicked through the book. He glared at me like I was the worst mother in the world. He said it was “inappropriate” for eight-year-olds. (Much like 44-year-old wives using osteopaths.)
On closer inspection – when I had the house to myself and wasn’t flustered by Husband’s stern, disapproving gaze – I discovered the book also includes characters from Halloween, Friday the 13th and The Shining.
And memorable quotes such as: “He died while the two counsellors who should have been watching him were having sex. And now, decades after the fact, he lurks in dark corners, preying on horny teenagers.”
So I’ve hidden it. Better late than never.
EVER DISCOVERED YOUR CHILD READING SOMETHING INAPPROPRIATE? (I ordered The Joy Of Sex from one of those mail-order book clubs when I was 12)
PS Short(ish) one today because – and I apologise in advance – I’m going to try and blog about Hollywood this arvo (if I can squeeze it in before a mole check at the skin cancer clinic), plus I have a Village Voices Christmas in July post on the way. Lets hope the blog spamming doesn’t lose me any more than the four followers who’ve already departed this week …