Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

No, never fear, I am not moving.  (If I were moving, I’d have to do something about the 193 library books that are currently residing in my house.)  My friend Britt, however, is, so I hung out and packed a bit and cleaned with her last night, coming home smelling not-so-faintly of Pine-sol.  (Item:  Can one smell faintly of Pine-Sol?  I’m not sure Pine-sol does “faint.”)

(By the way, in case you’re wondering, I probably still owe her a few more favors, but we stopped counting years ago.  She’s that kind of friend.)

Anyway, by the time I got home last night, and caught up on Facebook, and showered, well–it was late, and I really needed to go to bed.  (In case you’re wondering, it’s an italicized and parenthetical kind of day.  I’m okay with this, partly because italicized and parenthetical are good words that feel underused to me.  In fact, I changed the structure of this aside because I wanted to use parenthetical instead of parentheses.) Hence, my postlessness last night.  I’m sure my legions of adoring fans were inconsolable.

Today, then, I bring to you the review intended for last night, which is of Emma Lesko’s Super Lexi.  I’m pretty sure the book came on my radar because Britt marked it as to-read; it sat on my shelf for months before I finally took it down to the treadmill to read it and decide if my kids would be interested.  I would have picked it up months ago, however, if I’d known I’d enjoy it so much.

Super Lexi is told from Lexi’s point of view, and Lexi is clearly–different.  How different?  Hmmm. Possibly OCD-ish, possibly on the autism spectrum, possibly, well, I’m not sure.  And it doesn’t matter, anyway.  What matters is that Lexi’s differences make music class torture for her on a good day; they make the thought of the Parents’ Day performance coming up unbearable.  Her efforts to avoid it, and the outcome, give the book direction, but the best part of the story is getting to see life through Lexi’s eyes.  Her meticulously accurate responses to questions (“I heard your voice, not words”), her reactions to requests for eye contact (“I needed my eyes to look for cereal in the cupboard”), and her phobias (yogurt, the cafeteria trash compacter, and eyeballs staring at her, to name a few) give you such a clear view into her personality that it’s sometimes hard to understand why the adults in her life act the way they do.  (If only we could all see into our children’s heads, right?)  Ultimately, I found it amazing that a 93 page book (with a large font!) could tell its story with such depth.  Don’t miss this one, folks.  It’s a perfect glimpse into a world that’s different from our own–although not, necessarily, in the ways that truly matter.

I’m kind of bitter that our library system doesn’t have the sequel.