The Giving Tree

Rachel was recently discovered this book, which we've had since she was a baby. We have two copies -- one from someone whom I can't remember, and another from my friend Dan, who personalized it by taping a folder of pictures of me when I was pregnant and penning a lovely inscription about how it was one of his kids' favorite books (they're grown now, with kids of their own) and it was written by a guy who used to be on his softball team in Key West (the late, great children's book author Shel Silverstein).

We read it every night. It is all I can do not to cry, which I usually do right about when I get to the part of the tree straightening herself up as best she can to provide a place for the Boy, who is now old and tired, to sit and rest. I try to hide my tears from Rachel because I don't want her to think of it as a sad book, even though it's depressing, really -- it's about someone? something? who/that gives and gives and gives until she can't give anymore, and a Boy who takes and takes and takes and never says thank you. The ending is so ambiguous: Does the boy learn anything? Does he die, sitting on the stump? He seems to have and unhappy life -- is that connected to his selfishnes?

I'm trying to teach Rachel some lessons from the book.

"Rachel, are you a giver?" I asked the other night.
"No," she said.
"Are you a taker?"
"No," she said.
"You should be a giver AND a taker," I said.

Tonight she startled me. On the changing table, after I finished reading to her, she suddenly said, "I want money."
"Money, Rachel?" I said.
"I want money, like the Boy," she said. (That's the first demand he makes of the tree -- he wants to have fun and needs money to have fun, and she urges him to take her apples to sell them in the City and make money).

I was a little disconcerted. I'll try again tomorrow night.