When I was a kid, someone gave me this children’s book about a girl who is having a bad day.
I wish I could remember the name of the book — I’ve tried everything I can think of to figure it out! I feel like it had an orange cover, and the artwork was kind of simple, yet colorful. I’ve Googled all kinds of keywords to try to find it, but I just don’t have enough to go on to zero in on the title.
I had hoped my sister would remember the book, but when I asked her about it once, she only had a vague recollection of it. I’m three years younger than my sister, and this book was definitely junior fiction, and my sister was always reading way above her level when I was still into storybooks. But it did make me feel better when she told me she “kind of” remembers the story.
But this book left a very big impression on me, and even all these years later, I think about that little storybook all the time. In fact, it’s created this weird guiding perspective inside of me that at least gives me an option when it comes to interacting with demanding, and very grumpy people.
Clearly, this book could be useful for anyone to read at any age!
Since I know I can’t fact check my memories of the story for you, I’ll just tell you what I remember, and we can go from there. In the story, this little girl wakes up on the wrong side of the bed. She’s super cranky and grouchy, and she just wants her mom to know how unhappy she is.
So after she gets dressed, she goes into the kitchen, and she sees a measuring cup with milk in it. She thinks to herself something like, “My mom must be getting ready to bake a cake. So I’ll drink the milk so she won’t have it for the cake, and then she’ll know how unhappy I am.”
So she drinks the milk.
Moments later, her mom walks into the kitchen and sees her daughter sitting at the table with a milk mustache. She instantly understands that her daughter drank the milk. With a huge smile on her face, she says something like, “Oh how wonderful! You drank the milk I left out for you this morning! You’re such a good girl.”
“Erg,” the little girls thinks (in my memory of her, at least).
So she heads out to the front porch where she sees her mother had been tending to her potted plants. The mother left her pruning sheers next to the flower boxes on the porch, and the little girl has an idea. She thinks to herself something like, “I’ll cut these flowers so my mom will have to plant new ones, and then she’ll know how unhappy I am.”
So she snips the flowers in one long clip.
Moments later, her mom walks out onto the porch and sees her daughter holding a fist full of flowers. Her mother smiles at her daughter and says something like, “Oh how beautiful! You gathered a bunch of flowers for me?! You are such a kind girl!”
The story goes on like this for a few more go-arounds, and each time the little girl does something mean to show her mother how unhappy she is, her mother interprets the gesture as some form of good behavior or a kindness. But the way I remember the ending of the story goes something like this:
The little girl is sitting on the edge of her bed, getting ready to go to sleep after a long day. Her mother is sitting there with her. The little girl has finally given up on being unhappy as she snuggles into her mother’s goodnight-hug.
Then the mother says something like, “What a good day you had! And now, let’s have a sleepy night full of sweet dreams.” The last drawing in the book of my memory is a happy little girl all cozy in her bed, and her mother is smiling down on her before she turns off the light.
I’m sure my memory of that book is totally inaccurate, and if I could ever find a copy, I’d be so happy to see if any part of my memory of the story is true! But the lasting impression the book left on me was how two narratives — the little girl’s and her mother’s — could be so different…
And…how a positive perspective can overcome a negative one if you’re looking for the goodness in every situation.
Now… Since I don’t know the name of the book, I also don’t know the name of the author — which means I can’t really research the writer to find out the point of the book. So I’m not sure if the writer was setting up a commentary that being passively unhappy in life isn’t a very good strategy, or if the point of the story is found in the mother’s genuinely positive point-of-view. Either way, for me, there’s a lasting and very valuable pearl inside of this narrative that keeps me going:
Everything in life is subject to interpretation.
And what one person means for evil, another person can use for good. So I guess if there are always multiple ways to interpret any situation, perhaps the best question to ask myself at every intersection I face is this:
