Kid Lit

I never really liked children's literature. Since I believe parents should read to their kids, that was a problem. I enjoyed and would read some things to them; Dr. Seuss, Mercer Mayer, a few others, but most of it I wasn't going to read once much less multiple times.

So I read them what I liked. They would be rocked to sleep hearing Edgerton, Fitzgerald, and Conroy. They heard snatches of Gone With the Wind, Florence King essays, and Tennessee Williams plays.

So did I raise Southern Neurotics? Not really. Ok, so they both have a flair for drama, language, and at least one of them has an appreciation for fine writing and film-making, but they're remarkably sensible young people.

No matter what my faults as a mother, and I had many, I like the people my children turned out to be. I often wonder if I had done things better, picked a more involved and evolved father for them, been less damaged and more squared away, done about a thousand things better than I did, would they still be the people I like so much? I doubt it.

It is the total of our experiences, good and bad, that make us the people we become. And with my kids, maybe the inappropriate reading material is part of who they are.