The little sister had no choice — after being tucked into her bed, she was force-read books every night. At some point, she learned to form sentences (oh, we rue the day!) and became, well, there’s no delicate way to say this, demanding. One might say spoiled, but it’s so cute when they barely reach your knees*. At some point, came the dreaded year of the Berenstain Bears.
Every night, one, two, three, sometimes four Bears were read to her. The same Bears over and over. By over and over, we mean over and over and over and over again. Her indulgent older siblings began to dread bedtime. Her parents began to dread bedtime. And woe to the brother who decided to skip all articles and verbs. She knew those books by heart. The Wild Things didn’t cut it — she wanted her Bears and she wanted them in mass quantity.
We like to think those Bears, irritating as they were, contributed to the little sister’s eventual emergence as a productive member of society.
* – The average knee. The BS knees are sadly below average.
