If You Give a Child a Book
2004

My small hands gripped the huge silver microphone, struggling to keep the mesh sphere at the top, where Daddy told me it was supposed to be. I looked up, awed, as he continued to push buttons, turn knobs, and adjust sliders on the intimidating stereo that was bigger than I was. The microphone wavered as I watched him work, marveling at his ability to manipulate this giant into doing his will.

“Okay, Amanda, it’s all ready,” he finally said, still fussing with a small silver knob. “Go ahead and start.” He looked at me expectantly, and I jerked the microphone back up to my mouth.

I glanced down at the book spread open in front of me. Staring at the familiar pictures, the story played out in my head. Once again, I wondered what those small black spots across all the pages were for. They didn’t seem to be a part of the pictures that told the book’s story. I figured that that was some sort of adult code that I would be able to understand when I was all grown up.

“Go ahead and start the story,” Dad encouraged me again. Making sure that the microphone was in its proper position, I looked once again at the book and began my story.

“If you give a mouse a cookie...” I recounted the words exactly as Mom and Dad had told them to me so many nights before bedtime. Turning the pages, I looked at the pictures, reciting the tale word for word. The stereo whirred and spun and waved various knobs and needles, but I ignored it. Visions of mice and cookies and milk played through my head as I recorded my story to keep for years to come.