My son is one brink of turning one. He is walking–nay, stomping–around the house, lord of his domain. He has mastered both the bye-bye wave and the hello wave. He claps. He finally sleeps through the night. He is, in short, turning into a person. For reals.

There is nothing that underscores this transformation like his sudden passion for books. Let him down on the floor, and a few moments later he will be dragging a picture book over, grunting with excitement and going “Buh-buh-buh-buh.” And then he will want to read it, and read it, and read it, and read it. There is no end.

Since it’s also National Novel Lover’s Month, and since I have been reading the same novel slowly for the last month, I thought I would review here what I have been reading a lot of: baby books. (Also it lets me slip in that it’s NaNoLoMo!)

Tiny Mr. I’s favorites

Preface: Every one of these books is good. Some of them would be my favorites…except I have read them so many times that they echo in my dreams. In the great green room, there was a telephone, and a dreaming Elder God. Ia! Ia! There are not many books out there that can be reread sixteen times in a row without making you resent their existence just a teensy bit.

That said, he wants to hear them sixteen times in a row. That’s saying something.

1. Good Egg by Barney Saltzberg. This is a new one, a grab from Half-Price Books, and I’m only starting to get burned out on it. In it the reader gives an egg commands as though it were a dog. Very cute, funny, and attractive. It’s a pop-up book, which means it will be destroyed in the next three months, but the actions are clever. Honestly I think he’d be happy rereading two pages over and over: “roll over” makes the egg spin in very tempting way (and he’s torn it off it’s mooring once) and “catch” involves a beach ball on a ribbon tether with velcro. Forget the egg. Tiny Mr. I can catch! And eat the ball! Wait, no. Stop that!

2.Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus by Mo Willems. You may have heard of this one. Award-winning, darling, and very inventive–the book involves a pigeon begging in all the usual ways (and some unusual ways) for the kiddos to let it drive a bus they’ve been left to keep an eye on. It’s fun and funny…and totally weird to read with a toddler who doesn’t know how to say “No.” See the pigeon begs (“Come on! Just once around the block!”) and then the kid’s supposed to say “No!” But I end up saying the pigeon’s lines AND the kid’s lines, and after six times I start to feel a little like I’m going mad.

Sometimes, I can convince Tiny Mr. I to shake his head, but I’m mostly sure he’s doing that because it makes him kind of dizzy. Plus, I started out with a goofy pigeon voice, and six in a row kills my throat.

3. Super Shiny Robots by Nick Sharratt. Yeah, remember when I said Good Egg would be destroyed in a few months? This pop up book has been loved to pieces. I’ve had to go back and draw in some of the missing pieces so it makes sense. For me–I know he’s just happy to see the silly robots.

And maybe 20% of the time, the last page plays a supremely annoying tune…that he does an adorable bouncing dance to. So when it doesn’t, I replicate it myself. Beeeeooooh-beeoooh-booooo-booop. Bah-bah-ba-ba-bababababah!

4. Counting Kisses . I have to be honest: I have no idea what he likes so much about this book. It’s a counting book, but what you count are…wait for it…kisses! Ten little kisses on teeny, tiny toes; nine laughing kisses on wriggly, kicking feet–you get the picture. And he doesn’t really like being interrupted with all those kisses. Maybe it’s the colors? Or the faces? It’s cute, but I sooo don’t get what I’m supposed to be drawing attention to here.

5. Bubbles, Bubbles. Okay, I’m going to sound like a super-obnoxious parent for a second: I did not buy this book, it was a gift. I am firmly against getting him stuff that’s branded with characters who will be used to sell him everything from yogurt to shoes. I know this is kind of rich coming from a media tie-in writer, but I don’t care. When I read this, I make a point of not naming the characters, which is hard, because I loved Sesame Street and I hate that I feel like I’m standing in the way of it. Then I see the ridiculous Cookie Monster branded yogurt pouch in the cabinet and the baby Ernie peeking out of his back-up diapers, and I’m resolved. “Silly red monster” is much preferable to hard-wiring Elmo into his brain before he can talk. Much as I’d like to get rid of it though, it’s probably his favorite. He will make me read this one until he wants to stop but doesn’t want to stop and gets so flustered he’s opening and shutting the book and starting to flip out. It’s a cute rhyme and might actually be teaching him where his nose and toes are. So I will cut you some slack, Silly Red Monster and Smiley Orange Dude. You are not total sell outs.

6. Where’s Spot? by Eric Hill. We had this book for ages, and Tiny Mr. I was indifferent to it to the point that I wondered if he knew it was a book. Then all of the sudden–literally, the day after I suggested we should get rid of it–it became the Best Book Ever. He is forever bringing it to me with that insistent toddler-whine. “Now, now, now, now.” He’s capable of lifting the flaps, which I suspect is the book’s draw. He isn’t, however, all that good at not ripping the flaps off–two have had to be re-glued and another one is going to tear any day now. Plus, what the hell, Spot? Why are you teaching my kid it’s okay to hide instead of eating dinner?

The Books I Wish Were Tiny Mr. I’s favorites.

1. Hippos Go Berserk by Sandra Boynton. I would read Sandra Boynton books forever. I would read them to my son now, in three years, in ten years. I would do a reading from them for his wedding, someday. I would recite them to my husband. They are hilarious and awesome and never get annoying. At least not yet. Sometimes, I find myself reciting Hippos Go Berserk as I go about my day. “One hippo, all alone/Calls two hippos on the phone.” Tiny Mr. I is less entranced. I think this is because he does not understand yet what a hippo is, and why seeing them dance with lampshades on their heads is intrinsically hilarious.

2. Chicka Chicka Boom Boom by Bill Martin Jr. and John Archambault; illustrated by Lois Ehlert . Besides being a hysterical title that always makes people do a double take, this book is one of the best alphabet books. It’s another I walk around chanting, which probably means I seem about as crazy as you can get, except when I walk around and realize I’m writing dialogue for my book out loud (Oops!). The rhythm is fantastic.

3. How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight? by Jane Yolen; illustrated by Mark Teague. This is a sweet spot book. I’m not tired of it, Tiny Mr. I is still charmed by it. Everybody wins! The poetry is sweet and it’s fun to read without being a strain. I suspect it will still be good when he’s older and can grok the message about not being a pill when it comes to bedtime. My only dislike: all the dinos are boys, so I change the gender on every other one. Dinosaurs and whiny bedtime refusers can be girls too.

4. Karate Pig by Alan Katz; illustrated by Daniel Moreton. This was a sweet spot book. I am sooooo tired of it. But it’s one of the best of our batch still, even if I hide it for days at a time. It’s a rhyming book with pull-outs about a pig that does karate, chopping up things to share with others. The rhymes are a little more complex than the usual (“Any more of his kung fu and/I’m afraid this book is ruined” took me ages to work out), and the character is delightfully goofy. But OH MY GOD, YOU GUYS, I HAVE READ THIS THREE THOUSAND TIMES. Someone else have a turn. Please?!

5. The Big Orange Splot by Daniel Pinkwater. I loved this book when I was a kid. The fact that I know that means I should have known it’s too advanced for a one-year-old. It’s just too long to sit down and read without him deciding that trying to upend the recycling bin isn’t way more entertaining. The message about embracing who you are and not worrying about being weird or different is completely lost on him since he doesn’t worry about anything, as are the delightful turns of phrase. “Mr. PLumbean’s house was like a rainbow. It was like a jungle. It was like an explosion.” Love this book.

So when he forgets he hates this book and brings it to me, I’ve taken to doing a speed version, reproduced below:

“Once there was a guy named Mr. Plumbean, who had an awesome mustache. Look! He lived on a street where all the houses were the same, because those people liked that. Then one day a bird dropped a can of orange paint on his house. His neighbors said, ‘Oh no! You have to paint.’ ‘Okay,’ said Mr. Plumbean, and he painted his house all crazy. Look, an elephant! And a lady. And…that’s a steam shovel, but daddy would say ‘back hoe’ and we’d have a thing about that. Then he built a clock and got crazy plants and an alligator. His neighbors said, ‘Plumbean’s crazy!’ and someone went to talk to him. But then that guy made his house look like a boat. So they sent someone new. And that’s how the street got houses that looked like a balloon, a palace, a castle, a…what would you call that?…a greek temple, and a boat. When people see the street they say, ‘That place is crazy.’ But the people who live there say, ‘Yes, but we like that.’ The End.”

Someday he will sit long enough to hear the whole thing. Then he will say, “Mom, seriously, I have to go meet my friends.” Sniff.