As a parent, with a house that any regional public library would envy for pure quantity of stock (I make no claim on quality, I have some serious crap kicking aound as well as some classicly awesome stuff - my own falling somewhere in that range) there are some book my kids aren't ready to read yet.
I DON'T let my kids watch stuff from Iraq et al on TV. It's my job to look out for them and decide what they are ready for. But part of that is preparing them for when they ARE ready to see that.
And books that don't have happy endings are all part of that. Because they aren't real, it's a softer way of dealing with the horrible ghastly crap that fills the world. In a safe and controlled (as oppose to controlling) environment where they can ask me questions and resolve their feelings afterward.
But the key is I'm using that stuff. I'm easing my kids into the real world with this non-real stuff. If my kids aren't ready for something, it's a timing thing.
And ya know what? If that stupid-assed, panty-wedged, prig had been so frikkin' concerned for the well-being of her poor little angels, maybe she should have sat down with the kid and talked about the book instead of starting a book-burning club for closed-minded skidmarks posing as pisspoor examples of parentage.
I was doing quite well until the end.
I'm going now, because I have an overwhelming urge to start a club with the express intention of having retarded, ignorant-ass parent buring parties.
