no no nicky

I mentioned our old (both in the senses of previous and elderly) cat Nicky in yesterday's comments. And it occurred to me that I should explain that the reason our very female cat had a boy's name (unisex naming being a topic that seems to be in the air this week!) was because my then two year old son named her such. Why? Because his very very favorite book at the time was No No Nicky, the story of a cute little kitteh who gets in trouble for all the things a toddler might be told "no" about. Going too close to the stove: "No, no, Nicky! Hot!" Getting into things that don't belong to him: "No, no, Nicky! That's not yours!" It was adorable, and D loved it. (And so naturally, Nicky was what you should call a cat who doesn't have another name.)

I was wondering if it were still in print, hence my trip to amazon, but alas, no. If you click on the link however, you'll see I could get a used copy for $33. Which is, coincidentally, how much it costs for a cat cremation. Huh. Anyway, my nostalgia for 1988 and my child's preschool days isn't strong enough to consider that. But the editorial review on amazon from the School Library Journal? Did you read that?

Parents may be troubled by how the concepts of friendship and safety are explored in these full-color board books for very young children. The cat Nicky has friends that include a baby, other kittens, two children, a man on a park bench, an elderly woman who feeds him from her porch, and a puppy. Although each character falls under the umbrella of friend, the relationships are not clearly defined, and the book will not hold children's interest. In No, No Nicky, the cat is pictured near a hot stove, an electrical outlet, spilled paint, and a cupboard full of cleaning supplies, but there are no clues as to why the situation is dangerous. Much adult interpretation will be required to help children understand the dangerous scenarios. The book itself fails to help children discern what is safe.

Are you fucking kidding me? I thought that in 1987 our society hadn't yet devolved into the over-protective hand-wringing idiocy that parenting is today, but apparently I remember wrongly! I will not buy a $33 copy of this book, but that doesn't mean I want my fond memories of it shit all over. Fucking children's librarians from Newark. God. (Plus? It held my kid's interest, bitch. So what do you know?)

xoxo