MountainMornings

What do you do when you’re confronted with a mopey mood? Maybe you didn’t sleep that well because there is a new little human being in the house trying to tell the difference between night and day. Or maybe it’s just a dreary, rainy sort of morning and you woke up to find you were out of milk for your coffee. You might even be anticipating a lackluster VP debate? Well if you were Peter Rabbit, you’d decide you need a change of scene! http://www.npr.org/2012/10/11/161708397/emma-thompson-revives-anarchist-peter-rabbit

This wonderful little character, who first debuted in 1902 just a few years before the Flapper was born, is being brought back to life by the Oscar winning actress Emma Thompson. She is the first person to be authorized to continue the story of the little bunny since 1930, after Beatrix Potter’s death. I didn’t know that she writes too, but Thompson says that she loves the Victorian language. For instance, where we might say we found a cheese sandwich in our lunch bag, Thompson says, “…inside wrapped in brown paper were some excellent sandwiches of cheese and pickle.”

I agree with Thompson when she says, “I think the first words that enter you when you’re very small have a hugely powerful, potent impact on your relationship with language. And to have had Potter as a child did me — not to make her sound like spinach or anything — a lot of good because she’s such a brilliant writer.” And of course Peter Rabbit is a bit of an anarchist, like a little rebellious child who wants to do the exact opposite of what his parent’s think are good for her or him.

So today, in honor of Peter Rabbit, why not do something slightly dangerous? Break a rule, go on an adventure. “Action and adventure” I used to call those mopey days with small children. After all, even a trip to the park can be like going to the circus for a small child. Maybe in my next life, I’ll come back as a children’s literature author? I have a wonderful idea for a book about a big white dog named Buddha. He loves his life by the beach where he sits under a magical huckleberry tree. Or maybe I should just write it for the Love Bug?