Mom and Dad used to read me Mr. Snitzel’s Cookies, much to my protesting.
(this isn’t mine… my cover is red, which I was unable to find on-line… then again, I didn’t really look.)
I’m pretty sure that Mom’s Mom tortured her with this book and I know my ‘rents REVELED in torturing me with it.
As a kid, I was a fan of having books read in character voices, I recall once I had dad read me an X-Men coloring book and asked him to “make Magento mad!”. But with Mr. Snitzel’s cookies I would beg, plead, cry for my dad not to use voices for this book.
He would draw out EVERY Snitzel so it came out kind of like, “Meeeesteerr Schnitxel’s Coookieeeesss”, while raising and lowering his tone.
Despite my screeching, he’d read it that way almost every time. I recall one time that he caved in, no voices, no crazy “cooookieeeess”. Not to say that the book was a disappointment, but, it lacked something.
In fact, in retrospect, maybe Mr. Snitzel’s Cookies was a form of punishment…
It was just a long, boring, book and had compared to my other books, well, it sucked.
Seeing as it’s been the better part of twenty-five years since I’ve read Mr. Snitzel’s Cookies I thought I would bring it over to read to the three-year-old.
Thinking that perhaps the book was not as horrific as I recalled, H sat next to me, interested for the first half dozen pages.
Shortly thereafter, she began to look around, play with the grass… typical “I don’t care” behavior.
She leans over, closes the book and says, “Stephanie, this book… it’s… it’s” and she starts waving her hand in little ‘It’s coming to me’ circles. “Well, this book…um, it…”
“It’s a big boring, huh.” I say, nodding.
“Yeah. Let’s read this one.”
The Monster at the End of this Book went over much better.