Making Bedtime Stories Your Own by a Brooklyn Dad

I don’t think it is an exaggeration to tell you that as far as reading aloud to children goes, I am one of history’s great-unsung talents. My two sons, 4 and 6, will tell you otherwise but it’s not their fault. How could they know better? They’re just kids. My wife will also challenge my supremacy, but as a de-facto Salieri one must question her motives. It’s true that I do make some unorthodox voicing decisions.

My Ke$ha-inspired Goldilocks underlines the questions of entitlement and narcissism intrinsic to the text. My big bad wolf can be hard to understand at times, but I find that performing him with an intense, uncontrolled stutter adds humanity and complexity to the character. Often during a particularly long episode of stuttering by Wolf, the boys will just complain and eye roll themselves to sleep. It can be difficult to wake them up but usually the shrill screeching of my “desperate woodsman” does the job.

[caption id="attachment_5492" align="alignright" width="277"] The author and his son play at the beach before reading bedtime stories.[/caption]

Time is a character in readings of Seuss’ classic take on the corrupting influence of power "Yertle The Turtle." I deliver the whole text in “Turtle Time,” an ultra slow pace that reflects the characters’ famously laconic metabolisms. The reading can take upwards of two hours when done properly. In the case of Eric Carle’s "The Grouchy Ladybug," just the opposite is true. The reading is so quick that I’m often done with the story before my younger son can ask, “What’s an aphid?”

I wasn’t always this good, when I first got into the game, my work was much more straightforward. The leading insect in my early interpretations "The Grouchy Ladybug" was famous with my older son for an exaggerated, almost Popeye voiced, “Ya wanna fight?” The animals TGL challenged were read in the typical voices of their species, hissy snake, gruff gorilla, et al. It’s almost embarrassing to think of, now that I read them in a variety of extremely thick regional Canadian accents. Sure, my boys preferred being read Peggy Rothman’s "10 Minutes till Bedtime" and Ruth Bornstein’s "Little Gorilla" before I developed my technique of delivering each word in completely unrelated voices, but it was so obvious. A classic rhymed book like Margaret Wise Brown’s "Little Fur Family" used to make my kids smile but, now that I read them in totally odd timing. It. Makes them. Think.

Do my kids appreciate the skill and depth of my craft? Of course they don’t. They are always carrying on about “reading normally” and “I can’t understand your voice with that Scottish accent” and “Can Mommy please read tonight?” My best work is often misunderstood but that’s common with visionary artists. My