As I walked down the hall to check on Botany before retiring for the night, I became aware of two things. One, that she was still awake. Two, that there was a distinctive sound of paper ripping coming from within her room.
I went in and found her sitting happily on her bed, surrounded by the carcasses of at least five books, the pages having been torn out and cast around her like fallen leaves. Ruined were copies of books given to her by E. (poor Penguin )and her grandmother (alas for lovely Ladybug Girl.) Books I knew she really loved, books we had read over and over and over together.
To make matters worse, she had not confined her spree of destruction to her own books, but had chosen to reach up to the highest shelf of her bookcase and selected several of my childhood volumes, which I had (in hindsight, very stupidly)been storing in her room. When I realised that she had effectively partly disembowled a cherished (and as I latterly discovered, rather valuable) edition of an old Roald Dahl favourite, a sound came out of my throat that was something like a bereaved keening.
I mostly blame myself for the loss of my old books, because I should have realised that anything of value should, as a rule, never be kept within a toddler's reach. But I believed- evidently naively- that Botany who has been raised on a steady diet of bedtimes stories, regular trips to the library, charity shop book collecting, books as gifts for birthdays and Christmas- had been instilled with at least some of the same deep, powerful affection and for respect for sanctity of reading and books that both Knox and I share. We love books in this house. I have signed copies of works by favourite authors- John Irving, Audrey Niffennegger, J.K. Rowling. First editions, hardback copies of my top ten favourites, a Kindle loaded with a lengthy backlog. Knox's nightstand is about to topple over with the pile of bedtime reading. And so Botany's decision to suddenly and arbitrarily destroy books, precious books of all things seemed even more bizarre and upsetting.
I know it wasn't an act of deliberate malice- I think, if anything, it probably just feels pleasing in some way to rippity rip rip the pages apart. And perhaps I have overestimated Botany's ability at this age to grasp the consequences of her action. I'm trying to remember if I ever did anything similar when I was little at her age- I recall crayoning on the basement floor, peeking at the Christmas presents and when I was older there was an unfortunate incident when my dad didn't notice as he backed out of the garage in the morning that I had neglected to shut the rear car door the night before. Oops.
But I don't remember having a sense of destructive detachment toward my possessions- and certainly though not the things I really loved, or were loved by others.
I'm probably taking it way too personally but I have a sense of having failed in some fundamental way. My child ripped up books! On purpose! From here it seems like only one step away from, say, throwing puppies into a river or stealing an old lady's wheelchair.
Much of today has been spent trying to translate the book murders into a teachable experience for Botany. We spent a good hour at the kitchen table talking about what happened while painstakingly taping back together the precious (although undoubtedly now far less valuable in monetary terms) Dahl book. Somewhat miraculously, the tearing having been relatively clean, that copy has been salvaged to the extent it is still readable. Alas, the Wind in the Willows and Noel Streatfield's Skating Shoes are complete goners, but not quite as irreplacable. The remainder of my books have now been placed high beyond reach in my room. And Botany is chastened, for now, apologising repeatedly for what she did to the books.
As always, she asked me to read her bedtime stories tonight. I said no, not tonight- partly to conclude this episode with one last consequence and partly because I felt like doing so would make me feel just a little more than sad all over again.
Both my kids love books, and both have torn them up. I think its something to do with the age. My daughter adores her books, and yet has ripped her favorites. I'm betting its the lack of understanding consequences, and the joy of ripping.
Posted by: Kris | July 18, 2011 at 09:48 PM
Ahhh, we, also, have a Ripper! He has, after a couple of early errors, confined himself to paper that is indubitably his, and not bound books. I wouldn't put it past him though, not for a moment.
Posted by: Hairy Farmer Family | July 18, 2011 at 10:05 PM
Oh, no! Not Skating Shoes! (I love that book...) But you're not a failure, and a toddler doesn't really get that the books are gone forever. When I was that age, I took the labels off of all the cans in the cupboard. We had Dinner Surprise for months, because it is shockingly hard to tell different canned items apart when their labels are gone, and we didn't have the money to replace them. I'm sure my mother pictured me as a future ax murderer. But no, I'm ok, and I no longer assault the canned goods. And I love to read. It'll be ok. :)
Posted by: Teri | July 18, 2011 at 10:23 PM
We are Book Family too, and my younger son went through a period of ripping. It passed, thank goodness. But I still remember the horror of having to return a library book (a LIBRARY book!) with a shredded page. He had grabbed it just when we were gathering our pile to return. I could not look the librarian in the eye.
Posted by: Anna | July 18, 2011 at 11:01 PM
My grandmother believed there was a book tearing phase. I don't remember what age, but she just prepared for it with each of us; we couldn't touch real books without supervision but we could shred old magazines until we had no more interest in tearing. I think it is the sound, and maybe that feeling that you are doing something naughty.
Posted by: Just Me | July 19, 2011 at 03:28 AM
How heartbreaking! I'm a book nut also, and I probably would have wept in your shoes. Not being in your shoes, however, I can see that this probably doesn't signal psychopathy in Botany, but rather just healthy toddler curiosity. I'll bet she doesn't do it again.
Posted by: Sara | July 19, 2011 at 03:30 AM
Oh! That would just break my heart. And I'm a librarian. :-/ I suppose it will happen someday ...
Posted by: PiquantMolly | July 19, 2011 at 07:15 PM
Of course skating shoes is really called white boots (repackaged for the US market).
We also have a ripper, and she loves books. I kicked up such a fuss when she did it one naptime that she hasn't done it again, although little rips appear at the bottom of pages all the time as they just get careless when turning them. I promise you this is not one step on the way to granny bashing.
Posted by: thalia | July 19, 2011 at 07:24 PM
Oh dear. Julia of Hippogriffs had a very funny post some time back when Caroline had performed an "autopsy" on a book that had been left in her crib (and thanks to Mel's efforts it will pop right up if you use the blogroll search engine and type "Hippogriffs Caroline book autopsy") but that was a book deeply valued only by Caroline, making the matter lighter and funnier.
We have endured this yet (though we've certainly had damaged books, mostly due to carelessness and/or overenthusiasm), but my memory is replete with stories of kids including, I believe, myself, who cut the hair of their favorite doll or stuffed animal expecting it to grow back and being horrified when it doesn't. I suppose that's a bit different (hair on real people/animals does grow back but I cannot think of a self-repairing book example), but I think, basically, it's hard for that age group to understand the permanence of some sorts of changes. In short, while I feel your pain I don't think there's anything to worry about in Botany's behavior. Still, how frustrating.
Posted by: Alexicographer | July 22, 2011 at 04:33 AM
I love Noel Streatfield and its so rare that I meet anyone else who loves her books! They're all out of print (believe me I've tried to find them), so I definitely would have been upset if they had been ruined.
Posted by: RY | July 24, 2011 at 04:07 PM
Just Me's granny was so right! I've only just clicked - there IS a ripping phase. All mine have been rippers (and, actually, one still is). There's the ripping phase and the scribbling phase, where you do a squiggly line over single page of much loved books.
Posted by: JO | July 26, 2011 at 09:01 PM
Ouch. We have been spared the ripping and scribbling in books for the most part, though I do recall that Olivia ripped out one page of her very most favorite book a couple of years ago with absolutely no reason that she could articulate, and then she cried and cried and cried when she realized it could never be all the way fixed, no matter how much tape we used. Hope this is a one-and-done event for Botany!
Posted by: Dead Bug | July 27, 2011 at 02:56 AM
This is why they make board books for toddlers. Every kid does it, probably even you, although you would have been too young to remember. Usually the first rip is accidental, and then the joy of the sensory experience takes over. Until a child reaches pre school age, and sometimes later, the sensory experience of the moment is larger than any consequence. Until she is older:
1) only allow her board books on her own, save paper page books for read aloud time, keep other books out of sight.
2) give her play paper to rip and/or practice cutting (w dull kiddie scissors, naturally). Old magazines are great for this.
It does NOT mean that she doesn't appreciate books, or that she will treat them badly in the future. It just means that she is too young to associate the importance of the words with the boring every day paper and cardboard. She'll get it. Sorry that your books were trashed :(
Posted by: Chickenpig | July 28, 2011 at 06:55 PM