In his song “My Second Childhood,” Ehud Manor writes about parenting being a second childhood, one experienced vicariously through the child. “Through your eyes, daughter, I discover the world again. Through your hands, I learn to touch the sea waves again.”

I thought about this song lately, because thanks to my six-year-old daughter, I’ve been experiencing the joy of reading Dr. Seuss’s books, some of them for the first time. Of course, I read The Cat in the Hat as a kid, translated to Hebrew as Chatul Ta’alul (the cat with the tricks) by Leah Naor. And I remembered the sequel, Cat in the Hat Comes Back, pretty well. One of my friends had it, and I used to read it whenever I visited her house. A few more of his books were translated into Hebrew, including Green Eggs and Ham, though the translator chose not to mention the non-kosher ham, and on a kids’ TV show, I saw an adaptation in which a mother tries to convince her child to eat a spinach patty.

In the last weeks, together with my daughter at bedtime, I have read Seuss’s children’s books in the original language, one after the other. In English, his books sound more delicious. I also read a bit about the writer and realized I had known so very little about one of the most popular children’s literature writers of all time. For example, I didn’t know that Theodor Seuss Geisel started as a cartoonist and illustrator in magazines and published political cartoons during World War II. I had no idea he published cartoons that criticized antisemitism.

I didn’t even know that some of his books carry a message that seems relevant, even radical. The Lorax, for example, contains a strong political message about sustainability and environmental responsibility, a message that is hidden in anapestic tetrameter, rhymes, word play and other language fun.

My daughter and I are beyond Cat in a Hat and Green Eggs and Ham. We know One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish by heart, more or less. We twisted our tongues reading Fox in Socks and Oh Say Can You Say? We’ve read Horton Hatches the Egg and Horton Hears a Who! and watched a cute adaptation called Suessical at the Wychwood Theatre in Toronto. Being Jewish, I reluctantly read How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and, sadly, my daughter and I watched the animated movie adaptation, in which hating Christmas is unacceptable again. We read Yertle the Turtle, The King’s Stilts, and The Bippolo Seed and Other Lost Stories.

But one book that stood out as exceptionally apt for these bleak days of endless war is “Bartholomew and the Oobleck.” The story was first published in 1949 and could be seen as a retelling of the “New Emperor’s Clothes,” since the kid, Bartholomew Cubbins, is the one who dares to tell the truth, and to tell it to the king, no less.

The story is about a king of Didd (or should I say Bibb) who is angry at the sky, his sky, since it only brings four things: sunshine, rain, hail or snow. The king wants something else to fall from the sky. What could it be? Missiles from Iran, perhaps? The king’s magicians cast a spell, and the next day, green and gooey little balls of oobleck start falling from the sky.

One can think of many interpretations of the oobleck, and I am positive Dr. Seuss didn’t think about Israel in 2026 when he wrote the story, but I couldn’t think of anything else when I read that the Captain of the Guards denies the danger of the stuff that comes down on them and wreaks havoc.

Toward the end, even the King of Didd understands that the ruin and chaos in his kingdom are not an ideal situation. He tries to remember the magic words to stop the oobleck from tumbling down his own palace, but fails. Then the kid says, “Don’t waste your time saying foolish magic words. YOU ought to be saying some plain simple words!” meaning, the king he should say it was all his fault and that he is sorry.

“What!” [the king] bellowed. “ME… ME say I’m sorry! Kings never say ‘I’m sorry!’ And I am the mightiest king in all the world!” Bartolomew looked the King square in the eye. “You maybe a mighty king,” he said. “But you’re sitting in oobleck up to your chin. And so is everyone else in your land. And if you won’t even say you’re sorry, you’re no sort of a king at all!”

“What!” [the king] bellowed. “ME… ME say I’m sorry! Kings never say ‘I’m sorry!’ And I am the mightiest king in all the world!”

Bartolomew looked the King square in the eye.

“You maybe a mighty king,” he said. “But you’re sitting in oobleck up to your chin. And so is everyone else in your land. And if you won’t even say you’re sorry, you’re no sort of a king at all!”

In Seuss’s story, the king is persuaded by Bartholomew. When the king admits his mistake and says he was sorry, the sun shines through the clouds of oobleck and the storm abates. The peace and happiness have been restored in the kingdom. But I am left with a feeling of uneasiness.  The End.

When I finished reading the book to my daughter, I tucked her in, and she went to sleep with a smile on her face. But I was left with a feeling of uneasiness and despair. What would be the end of the King of Bibb? When will he say he is sorry? When will he take responsibility for his failures? Only in fiction. Only in kids’ books.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)