When a new babe hits the stage, I’m always there with a cluster of books rather than a nightie or silver spoon. What greater pleasure to pass on than sitting with the little squawker on your lap, as he or she turns and strokes (even gnaws) the pages, and listens again and again to repeated sounds that gradually bring with them understanding. Later, tucked in bed with a golden light haloing just you two in suspended time, you share tales (age old and new), lovely or raucous pictures, ditties of tune conjured to convey song in the text, voices varied for each character, fright and excitement, heroes and princesses and predicaments… The bonding, tremendous and life long, hovers in nostalgic ether like Proust’s petite madelene.

Need some suggestions? These are tried and true. But I am a child of the 40s, with children grown in the 80s, and no grandkids yet to sieve the new entries. So these choices reflect old roots. At the time, I knew exactly what age cherished which book. That fuzzies a bit for me now. I present favorites as a flow, therefore, and leave the more precise pairing to you. No harm having more advanced books at the ready, though. A library always should be a beacon. One more bias: spring for hardbacks! They last longer, of course, but more importantly they impart dignity. They don’t shred and crumple, but soften at the edges with patina. And they live on to welcome your children’s children.

To Begin:
Mother Goose—Find a nice oversized edition with old fashioned pictures (for later). For now, sound is what’s important. In the middle of the night, when you’re trying to calm or coax a crier back to sleep, there’s nothing like those old rhythms (Tom, Tom the baker’s son, stole a pig and away he run...) or tunes that rattle at the ready through your cranium such as London Bridge is Falling Down. Little Jack Horner, Miss Muffet, et al, surely should form part of any kid’s shared heritage with the ages.

A wooden book—I hope these still exist. In my day, one found them in a toy shop, or kid’s book store, or museum shop. Composed of four or five wooden “pages” approximately 4 inches square, strung together with leather thongs, they displayed animals or colored balls or whatever. The exact illustrations matter little (provided they’re not tongue toxic). It’s the turning of pages that delights, and gnawing guilt free, and the expanding pleasant associations of “Book.”

Pat the Bunny (by Edith Kunhardt Davies)—Corny but true, this modest little touch and feel book charms the same concentration and interaction from kids now as when first created in 1940.

Goodnight Moon (by Margaret Wise Brown) –This book often puzzles a snappy new parent at first. Seems like nothing much happens, and the words repeat. But Margaret Wise Brown was wise to kids’ tenderest feelings. Looking round night after night at the dear objects of one’s nest, wishing each well as it together with the child slip into snug darkness, beams steady comfort on the infant world, while the simple sounds soothe. Clement Hurd visualized the softness of her message, as he and she worked on book after book together. Always his forms have soft edges, and soft colors, and gentle scale. Be sure to get the original hardback with dust jacket, not the board book. Ink seeps invitingly into the soft paper, so much nicer than the hard glossy finish of rigid boards. 1947.

The Runaway Bunny (by Margaret Wise Brown) – On first encounter I worried that this book projected a meddling parent who wouldn’t allow her kid space. Au contraire! The hide and seek fantasy of a little one blending into all different corners of his bucolic world, only to be joined by his beloved mommy in the exact and complimentary form (wind to sailboat, mountain and mountaineer) (and just the two of them without rival in the whole wide world!) is child’s heaven. And what better ending than to snuggle into the cozy root home and nibble carrots side by side. Clement Hurd envisions it all with perfect pitch. 1942.

Little Fur Family (by Margaret Wise Brown) – Yet another completely fabulous book by this sage lady. Take care to get the tiny, hand held version with a grey furry cover, ISBN: 0694000043. (The original 1946 version had real fur.) A recent board book version is too large, rendering Garth Williams’ tender pictures gross, and the surface ugly and hard. Children love the very small and cuddly. Even the words and pictures fit diminutively relative to each page. The story itself unfolds with zen-like quiet and kindness. Baby bear explores his forest world, catches a little flying or swimming thing, admires it, but always lets it free. A mondane sneeze and its "bless you" hover like a prayer.

Several board books—These have all changed since my day. Pick out a nice one that names colors, one for counting, one with some animals. They needn’t be memorable. Suffice that they give variety to the nascent library and nudge the infant brain toward blue, red, and three.

Harold and the Purple Crayon (by Crockett Johnson)—This one’s so much fun for the parent as well as the kid -- a continuous purple line morphing into different scenes, page by page. 1955

Where’s Spot (by Eric Hill)—Every kid loves peek-a-boo games. Spot’s the basic classic. More ambitious pop-ups must wait until the child matures beyond tearing everything up. A mere fold-out flap can always be repaired with clear tape. 1980.

Where’s my Baby?, See the Circus, Anybody at Home? (H. A. Rey)-- Here are three good hearted flap books by Rey of Curious George fame. Available only in paper, they’re cheap and delightful to kids. In the first, mommy animals find their babies hiding under the flap, The next (you guessed ‘er chester) features the circus crew. The last connects gay little creatures, winged, four legged and human with their nest or home.

Little by little, this raft of books fill in the needful to help young fry come to know the world.