A Little Girl Celebrates an Old-Fashioned Hallowe'en With Her Grandparents in Pumpkin Moonshine

When I went to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter earlier this year, one of the beverages for sale was pumpkin juice. I didn’t try it, preferring to stick with butterbeer; frankly, drinking pumpkin sounded a bit gross to me. Nonetheless, it is probably the second-most famous drink in the Harry Potter universe. When I came across Tasha Tudor’s Pumpkin Moonshine, I thought the subject would be a similar drink, but with more of a kick. It seemed an odd subject for a picture book, but that just intrigued me all the more.

As I started to read, it further surprised me that the character intending to make Pumpkin Moonshine was a little girl visiting her grandparents. Was this really a story about a pint-sized moonshiner? What sort of drunken revelry would follow?

By the time I reached the end of the book, I realized that I had misunderstood. This is not a story involving potent potables. Instead, it is just about a child eager to make a jack-o-lantern. A quick Google search seems to indicate that this terminology is an invention of Tudor’s, or at least a very obscure name. Was she trying to celebrate an old family tradition or be provocative with her title? There’s certainly nothing else provocative about the book.

Tudor’s dedication reads “a wee story for a very sweet wee person.” This is a small square book with light orange trim forming a thick border around each page. Each page on the left features a watercolor painting rendered in muted tones, while the right-hand page includes a paragraph that begins with the first letter in orange and set apart, large and in an orange calligraphy box. The black ink sketches seen here are thoroughly charming. None of the pages is very wordy; three sentences are the most any one of them has, and in those cases, at least one of the sentences is fairly short.

The main character, Sylvie Ann, is a cute little girl who looks like a short-haired, bonneted Alice in Wonderland. She is visiting her grandparents in Connecticut; Tudor doesn’t tell us what year this is, but it seems pretty old-fashioned, and I would estimate the date to be at some point in the 1800s. At one point she says that Sylvie and the dog Wiggy “puff like steam engines.” The landscape is bucolic and unspoiled, with just a few hand-built structures dotting the farmland, and the spelling of the word Hallowe’en further suggests an older setting.

This is a charming little slice of life tale whose main event is the pumpkin Sylvie selects rolling down a hill. Various types of livestock scatter, and Mr. Hemmelskamp, an elderly neighbor who reminds me of the grandfather in Heidi, gets knocked for a loop. It’s mildly comical, but the writing style is pretty matter-of-fact. What’s more, after all the trouble she goes to so she can “make” her Pumpkin Moonshine, she only empties the pumpkin; her grandfather does the actual carving. Of course, that is probably for the best; small children and sharp knives don’t make a great combination.

This book was published in 1958 and feels older than that. Some children may find it too old-fashioned, but Pumpkin Moonshine offers an appealing peek at a Halloween celebration of yesteryear.

A Family Teams Up to Turn an Accident Into a Blessing in The Runaway Pumpkin

In Tasha Tudor’s 1958 book Pumpkin Moonshine, a young girl selects a pumpkin to carve into a jack-o-lantern and then chases it as it rolls down a hill, disrupting livestock and upsetting property until it comes to a rest and her grandparents help her do something fun with it. This is also the basic story in Kevin Lewis’s The Runaway Pumpkin, illustrated by S. D. Schindler.

I don’t suppose that Lewis was influenced by Tudor’s tale; after all, a pumpkin rolling down a hill is not a difficult image to come up with. Still, with the farmland, the grandparents and the mild destruction the pumpkin causes, there are definite similarities. However, this 2003 book has a more contemporary setting. Instead of one child, there are three, and all of them are in costume. Additionally, instead of prose, this story is told in verse.

As someone who has devoted a lot of time to trying to perfect my scansion, I can’t help noticing how little attention is paid to it in many children’s books. This one isn’t too bad; it’s a bit clunky in places, but for the most part, it reads pretty well. Lewis employs some useful repetition as he has each member of the family think of a different delicacy made by Granny when the pumpkin rolls by. This sets us up for the book’s cheerful conclusion. He also repeats a sonically satisfying series of adjectives describing the pumpkin as it rolls.

The sheer size of the pumpkin is likely to elicit giggles from young readers. The thing is really a monstrosity, though it is almost perfectly round. The way that Poppa stops the pumpkin in its tracks is quite clever. It would be nice if the kids were involved in the resolution of this problem, but the sense of the whole family pulling together is sweet. This is definitely a tale of family togetherness, and the costumes that each member of the family wears as they gather around the table for a cozy celebration add to the fun. I especially like the complicated insect costume that Grampa dons.

Schindler’s illustrations are in muted tones but are full of vivid detail. He provides a series of two-page spreads with the text printed over the paint in a playful font, and these paintings set us very firmly in autumn and also show how much trouble one pumpkin is capable of causing. I think my favorite illustration may be the one that shows Grampa on the ground, shaking his fist at the pumpkin that has just knocked him over, while white chickens scatter in a flurry of feathers.

The ordinary pumpkin in Pumpkin Moonshine stirs things up a bit, but this jumbo-sized would-be jack-o-lantern really makes a mess. This is a silly story with a warm thread of family giving it a heartening ending. Of the two, I think I give this one just a bit of an edge for both excitement and sentimentality. The pumpkin runs away, but great things happen when it stops.

Bil Keane Revels in the Family Circus in Sing Me a Loveaby?

When it comes to comic strips, everybody in my family can agree on Peanuts. Beyond that, however, our tastes vary wildly, from my brother’s favorite strip, the dearly departed Calvin and Hobbes, to my grandma’s, Family Circus – which happens to be Nathan’s least favorite. In fact, it doesn’t make much sense to call it a strip, since it almost exclusively comes in the form of a single panel, much like the Ziggy comics of yesteryear. In production for more than 50 years, this wholesome comic focusing mostly on the cute and exasperating things that kids say and do is frequently to be found on the refrigerators of parents and grandparents.

In Sing Me a Loveaby?, a Family Circus collection my grandma recently handed down to me, Bil Keane collects 125 black and white cartoons into a slim volume. On each page, the cartoon is enclosed in a thick black circle, and in most cases, dialogue from one or more of the characters is printed beneath the circle. Once in a while, there are dialogue bubbles within the circle, but usually you just have to take your best guess at who is talking. For the most part, it’s pretty obvious from the picture who the speaker is, but sometimes it’s difficult to tell.

The Family Circus clan includes the bespectacled and often beleaguered Bil, the father who is a two-dimensional version of the cartoonist, and Thelma, his short-haired but rarely short-tempered wife. Also based on Keane’s own family are the four children, Billy, Dolly, Jeffy and toddler PJ, all of whom are sweet at some times and annoying at others. Jeff, the son upon whom Jeffy is based, now serves as his father’s assistant, while Glen, upon whom Billy is partially based, works as a Disney animator, so the love of family-friendly artistry runs in the blood.

While most panels only focus upon those six characters, other friends, neighbors and relatives occasionally show up, along with family dogs Sam and the unfortunately named Barfy and cat Kittycat. The most prominent of the human side characters is the children’s paternal grandma, who is a widow; her husband often appears in outline form as a spirit watching her and the other characters, but he is not a part of this collection.

The cartoons featured here are pretty typical for the series. We have many instances of the children making cute observations or asking odd questions with an air of wide-eyed innocence. For instance, in one cartoon, as Thelma is pouring herself some coffee, Dolly explains to Jeffy, “We have orange juice and that’s Mommy juice.” In another panel, one of the kids calls his grandma on the phone while wearing a clown costume and says, “Hi, Grandma! Betcha can’t guess who this is!”

The humor is generally very mild and related to a child’s fresh perspective on the world. Much of it is linguistic in nature as the kids make unintentional plays on words. One of my favorites in this book is when a mouse-eared Dolly, upon returning home from a vacation, tells her friend, “After Disney World we went to Apricot Center.”

I was a little surprised at how many specific cultural references were in this book. I tend to think of these cartoons as being pretty general; their popularity seems to lie in their applicability to families of all types, with panels from the 1960s making just as much sense to contemporary readers. In this book, we get nods to Rush Limbaugh, Bart Simpson, Dr. Seuss, Game Boy and General Schwartzkopf, as well as the fairy tale Beauty and the Beast and the Biblical Battle of Jericho. Christianity plays a prominent role in Family Circus in general, with the children often reacting to the pastor’s sermon or a Bible story or simply engaging in some out-of-the-blue theological musings. It’s actually not a big part of this book, but a few panels delve into religious topics.

With just 125 panels, each usually only containing a one-sentence caption, Sing Me a Loveaby? is a quick read. Family Circus is not a laugh-aloud type of comic; most panels are only worth a weak chuckle. Nonetheless, this book is likely to bring at least a smile or two to the face of anyone who knows what a circus life can become when you have a family with young children.

Trixie Trades Knuffle for Knuffels in Mo Willems' Knuffle Bunny Free

Prolific and much-lauded writer-illustrator Mo Willems has created several popular series, including the Pigeon books and the Elephant and Piggie books, but his Knuffle Bunny trilogy holds an unusual place in his canon because it is best read in order. Each book finds the main character, Trixie, at a different stage of her childhood, with her world expanding considerably each time. In the first book, she remains in her neighborhood and interacts only with her parents, and she takes her first plunge into comprehensible speech. In the second, she has mastered verbal communication and spends her days at preschool among other children her age, eventually making her first close friend outside the family. In the third book, she is a confident elementary school student off on an international voyage to see her grandparents. From a trip to the Laundromat to a trip to Holland, her adventures are steadily getting bigger.

Trixie remains just as attached to Knuffle Bunny, her dowdy stuffed rabbit, as she was in the first volume, so of course, she brings him along with her for the big trip, counting on having him to cuddle with during her very first airplane flight. Unfortunately, as anyone who has read the first two books knows, she’s not so skilled at hanging on to her treasured toy. On this occasion, she won’t be able to instantly retrieve him; she leaves him behind on the plane, and by the time she realizes what she’s done, the plane is gone, and Knuffle Bunny is off for a voyage around the world. Will she ever see him again? And how will she get along without him in the meantime?

Willems once remarked in an interview that the word Knuffle is an adaptation of Knuffel, the Dutch word for snuggle, so it seems quite fitting that the last book should find Trixie in Holland, snuggling with her Oma and Opa in her beloved bunny’s absence. Most of the book takes place there, which makes it educational for children as well as entertaining. As with the previous books, this is a mixed-media effort, with black-and-white photographs serving as backgrounds for colorful hand-drawn characters. Kids can wander the Dutch streets with Trixie as she eats at a café and poses in front of an authentic windmill, and they can gasp along with her at the garish pink Dutch-spouting robo-bunny her grandparents buy her in an effort to ease her malaise at losing Knuffle Bunny, seemingly for good this time.

Additionally, in a four-page fold-out spread, Willems offers a peek at some of the other places Knuffle Bunny might end up in his travels, showing him in eight very different locations. I wish that Willems had identified these places in a note in the back, but kids can still have fun trying to figure out what country they are seeing; it just might take a little more work for parents to confirm the accuracy of their guesses.

While all three books contain a mix of the humorous and the emotionally resonant, I would say that the first book is primarily funny, while the second is equally touching and comical. I would deem the third book the least funny of the three and the most poignant. We don’t know precisely how old Trixie is here; I would guess at least seven, and possibly as old as ten. She’s old enough to have a real awareness of how her life is changing, and that scares and saddens her. However, it also excited her, and by the end of the book, she has come to embrace the new possibilities that come with being a big kid.

Most of the pages in this book have a beige background, and while a few characters are drawn directly on the page, most are set within a photographic panel, with a majority of pages having between one and three. As always, Willems does a lot with a little. One of my favorite parts of this book is the series of panels in which Trixie, having realized that her bunny is gone, heads off to inform her father, who is busy enjoying a pleasant chat with his dad, a charming fellow with a thick gray beard, square spectacles and a bald head. In four pictures, we see him go from relaxed to on-edge to staring at Trixie to assuming a hopeless face-palm position. “Trixie didn’t tell her daddy that Knuffle Bunny was gone,” Willems writes. “She didn’t have to.” This is especially striking given that the central conflict of the first book hinges on Trixie’s inability to communicate with her dad and his obliviousness to the source of her distress. Just as Trixie is growing up, her dad is maturing as a father and learning to be more attuned to his daughter.

Like the first two books, Knuffle Bunny Free, a sweet, heart-tugging play on words, includes an epilogue, and this one drives home the fact that the Knuffle Bunny series will end with number three. I’ll admit I got a little teary as I read those last four pages, which are written directly to the real Trixie as Willems imagines what the next decade or two may hold in store for her. The book proper also ends with a letter, leaving the reader with a real sense of the power that words have to connect people. Perhaps children who read this may be inspired to begin correspondences of their own: with their grandparents, with each other, with distant pen pals they have yet to meet. They might even decide to write the author himself, which he encourages by posting his mailing address in the FAQ section of his website, www.mowillems.com.

The Knuffle Bunny trilogy is the continuing story of a pudgy plush rabbit that is always getting lost. It’s the story of two adults, especially one overwhelmed dad, learning how to be better parents. But mostly, it’s the story of Trixie, a girl who is gradually growing older and taller and wiser and kinder. The first two are pretty much unavoidable; the second two are just a shade easier to achieve when children read such edifying books as Mo Willems’ Knuffle Bunny series.

Grandmas and Grandpas Both Give Their Best to Their Grandkids

So many children are fortunate enough to have grandparents who can dote on them and teach them about the world. In What Grandmas Do Best / What Grandpas Do Best, Laura Numeroff and illustrator Lynn Munsinger explore the power of this bond. Both Numeroff and Munsinger have numerous books to their credit, most involving animals. This one is especially simplistic, especially on Numeroff’s end, but I like the clever concept behind the book. It’s not the sort of book that seems likely to demand frequent repeat readings, but it would make a nice addition to a child’s shelf.

There are only 12 sentences in this book - and six of them are exactly the same as the other six, with the exception of one word. Half of the book shows all the things that Grandmas can do; the other half, which is read by turning the book upside down and opening the book from the opposite cover, has to do with grandpas’ activities. And what do you know? They’re the same things. This encourages a sense of gender equality and allows for some fun as we see how the grandpas and grandmas approach the same things differently.

At the same time, it makes for a rather uninvolved book, especially since ten of the twelve sentences begin “Grandmas / Grandpas can...” And the last sentence in each half of the book merely delays that opening with an introductory clause. The first five sentences in each half contain three activities per sentence, with each activity on a separate page. This makes the format very predictable and a bit stilted, since there is no variety in the sentence structure.

However, while Numeroff might be accused of sacrificing creativity for structure here, Munsinger’s illustrations are engaging as always. For each of the ten initial sentences, Munsinger provides three illustrations of the same child-grandparent pair. Hence, we feel like we’re getting a bit of a peek into the lives of ten different families. Most pictures show only the child and the grandparent, always working and playing together in close quarters.

The final page of each half, meanwhile, shows all five pairs scattered around a white page. Perhaps the most engaging of the illustrations are actually the two-page spreads immediately inside the book, which bring all the characters into close proximity with each other in a couple of outdoorsy scenes. There’s even some interaction among them, as the dogs and pigs on the Grandpa side share an umbrella and the raccoons and mice on the Grandma side work together to build a sandcastle.

The unique layout of the book, coupled with the adorable illustrations, makes it a cute choice for very young children to read with their own grandparents. It might even spark an idea or two about what they can do on their next outing, and perhaps reading it will inspire a brand-new grandparent-grandchild portrait. While this is not the most complex project either Numeroff or Munsinger has taken on, What Grandmas Do Best / What Grandpas Do Best is a very cute tribute to the love that grandparents and grandchildren share.

Mark Kimball Moulton's Reindeer Christmas Encourages Generosity

One of the first Christmas gifts I remember receiving from my aunt Nancy is an autographed copy of Jan Brett‘s Annie and the Wild Animals. Several years later, she presented me with Stranger in the Woods: A Photographic Fantasy by Carl Sams and Jean Stoick. In between and since, she has given me many nourishing books, but I thought of these two in particular as I read Mark Kimball Moulton’s Reindeer Christmas, for this is the story of an older relative instilling in the children she loves the importance of compassion and generosity, specifically toward hungry creatures in the winter.

In this book, beautifully illustrated by Karen Hillard Good, who uses drab colors to give the paintings an old-fashioned look, two children live with their grandmother. They make it a point to share their food with the wild animals lurking near their cozy home, and when they find an injured reindeer, they quickly welcome it in and nurse it back to health. After they send the animal on its way, they come to realize just how special a guest they housed when Santa sends them a remarkable gift to express his gratitude for restoring a member of his team.

I always find it interesting to take a peek at the dedication page, and I found the sentiments here especially moving. Kimball writes, “This story is dedicated to everyone who truly believes in the wonder of the season,” while Good, more personally, dedicates the book “to Dad, for all of those magical walks through the forest when I was a kid, and Mom, who always had the hot chocolate ready when we came home.” Though we don’t see a mom or dad in the book, this family is very close-knit, and all of them certainly appreciate the wonder of the season.

One thing I like about this book is that even though it’s a story about Santa Claus and his reindeer, the Reason for the Season is subtly incorporated throughout its pages. Around the house hang signs reading “Peace,” along with a drawing of the Nativity. The text itself mentions Christ, and in his thank you note to the family, Santa talks about praying. And this is a beautifully written tale, composed of rhyming couplets and incorporating rich vocabulary like “filigree,” “regal” and “luminescent.”

“Luminescent” is a good word to describe this book. As warm as a tray of gingerbread cookies fresh out of the oven, as heartfelt as the decoration applied to those cookies by tiny hands, Reindeer Christmas is a gorgeous tale of light and kindness.

Hannah Montana: The Movie Should Win Over Target Audience Despite Improbable Plot

It's been years since my family got the Disney Channel, so I was a bit late to discover Hannah Montana. I first heard of her a couple years ago when her calendars started flying off the shelves at the kiosk where I was working. I soon realized that she was the Next Big Thing among tweens, but my own experience with her has remained limited to television guest appearances. This week, I finally got a whopping dose of Hannah when I went to her movie in the company of a very ardent fan. Now at least I have a better idea of what all the hype is about.

Hannah Montana: The Movie is a G-rated adventure with a storyline that Disney and other family-friendly filmmakers have used time and again. Unassuming kid hits the big time and lets it go to her head; by the end of the movie, she's developed a renewed appreciation for her roots. It's nothing new, but it's a logical angle to take for a film about a superstar trying to live a normal life. As the film begins, we find Robby Ray Stewart (Billy Ray Cyrus) concerned that his daughter Miley (Miley Cyrus) is getting too caught up in her Hannah Montana act. She's starting to act like a diva: ignoring commitments to family and friends, fighting with supermodels over shoes and just generally being rather obnoxious. It's time for an intervention. Can a couple of weeks as plain old Miley in her grandmother's (Margo Martindale) farmhouse in her tiny hometown of Crowley Corners, TN, cure her of her egotism?

The impression I got from what I've heard about the show is that Miley is a pretty grounded young woman; it seems her poor behavior is a recent development. And it's problematic enough to convince her dad to out-fox her conniving agent Vita (Vanessa Williams) and force his daughter to blow off a major awards ceremony in favor of Grandma's birthday party. That doesn't strike me as very responsible, despite his good intentions; it's one of many plot devices that fall just a tad flat. Other eyebrow-raising moments in the first few minutes include a confusing transition from a concert to a video shoot and a bit about Miley's brother Jackson (Jason Earles) heading off to college, though nothing in the rest of the movie seems to indicate that he's doing anything other than working at a small-town zoo.

Jackson's animal antics amused me, particularly because an ostrich is involved at one point, but the character serves little purpose in the film other than to take pratfalls, which include crashing to the ground from the top of a ladder, nearly being bitten by an alligator and trying to shake off a ferret that has wound up entangled in his clothing. Pa Stewart is pretty clumsy too, especially in one wince-worthy scene toward the beginning, but his character has considerably more depth. Much of the film is about his attempts to reconnect with his daughter while navigating a possible new romance with alluring local Lorelai (Melora Hardin). Meanwhile, Miley, who also seems to have inherited the family klutz gene, rekindles a friendship with her childhood buddy Travis (Lucas Till, who doesn't sing or dance but still may find himself the next Zac Efron-like teen dream), now a handsome ranch hand. Travis's aw-shucks manner and dimply grin endeared him to me quickly, making the teen romance angle the most interesting element of the story for me, though I also appreciated the emphasis on the importance of family.

There is, of course, a lot of singing in the movie, most of it done by Miley. Her performances are mostly fun and bubblegumish, occasionally reflective. Her countrified, motion-heavy Hoedown Throwdown, which she appears to have made up off the top of her head, seems destined to be this summer's Macarena. Also popping up in the film are the members of Rascal Flatts doing a down-home, folksy rendition of their hit God Blessed the Broken Road and Taylor Swift with a song that affords Miley and Travis the opportunity for their first slow dance. I found the flashiness of some of the concert scenes annoying - and the instant costume changes inexplicable - but Cyrus's voice is pleasant enough - when she's singing, anyway. While her speaking voice didn't make much of an impression on me, my mom found it grating. I couldn't tell if there was a huge difference between Hannah and Miley's speaking voices; I thought she seemed to have more of a twang as Miley, but I'm not sure that was consistent. As with Superman, I certainly question how nobody realizes that Miley and Hannah are the same person. The main difference between them seems to be that Hannah has a blonde wig and excessive makeup.

In the tradition of many corny live-action Disney flicks, Hannah Montana: The Movie features several bumbling villains. One, a developer named Mr. Bradley (Barry Bostwick) who wants to turn Crowley Corners' bucolic meadows into a megamall, is essentially a retread of Alonzo Hawk from the Herbie movies. British tabloid reporter Oswald Granger (Peter Gunn) is rather like 101 Dalmatians' hapless Horace and Jasper; he even works for a foul woman reminiscent of Cruella De Vil. Needless to say, their threat level is minimal, though Mr. Bradley introduces some conflict when Miley is compelled to bring Hannah Montana to Tennessee for a benefit concert. Though her best friend Lilly (Emily Osment) is on hand to help her be two people at once, complications naturally arise. Their eventual resolution stretches believability beyond reasonable limits, but at least the requisite happy ending is achieved.

I enjoyed this movie well enough, and I imagine that most fans of the show will eat it right up like my friend did. In a movie landscape in which G ratings are increasingly rare, I appreciate how inoffensive the film is. It promotes wholesome values, and the romance between Travis and Miley is sweet and reminds me of the puppy love storyline in Princess Diaries, which I thought was terrific. Yes, just about every aspect of this movie reminds me of another film, usually a better one; Hannah Montana: The Movie is derivative to the max, and screenwriter Daniel Berendsen doesn't seem to give viewers much credit for being able to pick up on plot absurdities and inconsistencies. This movie won't be taking home any Oscars next year. But I bet it'll clean up at the Teen Choice Awards, which should be enough to satisfy the famous songstress and her admirers.

Little Critter Plus Two Grandparents Equals Big Fun

Growing up, I always got a kick out of Little Critter, the adorable spiky-haired creature Mercer Mayer dreamed up for an extensive series of picture books. I don't think he's supposed to be any particular type of animal, though I suppose he slightly resembles a porcupine. But he is a new species created by Mayer with furry features that make him more endearing but all the personality and trappings of a young boy.

In Bye-Bye, Mom and Dad, we get not only Little Critter but also a hefty dose of his sister and grandparents. His parents have gone away on a trip, so Grandma and Grandpa come to visit while they're away. With typical enthusiasm, Little Critter relates all the highlights of their day, though sometimes his description of events differs from what actually happens according to Mayer's vibrant illustrations - or at least he leaves out or understates some of the sordid details.

For instance, he tells us that when he helped his grandpa do some painting, he spilled the paint "a little"; the illustration shows a bucket of paint knocked over, its yellow contents seeping into the grass in a wide stream. Later, we learn that he gave his grandma a hand with her bowling ball "because it was too heavy"; he manages to lob it over into the next lane, much to the irritation of the other bowlers. My favorite of these slight misrepresentations occurs at the end, however, when Little Critter tells us how he spooked his grandparents so soundly with his story-telling skills that they begged to sleep with him for the night, after checking nervously for monsters in the closet.

While the Critter family is of ambiguous biology, there are several recognizable species that pop up throughout this book. First off, there's the dog, the mouse and the spider that appear on most pages; these are Little Critter's pets, and they generally reflect whatever emotions he is experiencing at the moment. We also see a squirrel in its natural environment. Meanwhile, we get a rhino grocer and a walrus concessions attendant, while fellow theatergoers and bowlers include a hippo, a giraffe, a crocodile, a bear and an elephant.

This is a cute, easy-to-read book. With just a sentence or two per page and so much colorful detail in each of the pictures, early readers should embrace this little fella, his lively sister and his doting grandparents, while adults can appreciate the subtle humor evident in the slight difference between written and visual accounts. When the parents are away, the critter will play; get in on the fun with Bye-Bye, Mom and Dad.