Kicking it Old School

When my son was in preschool, he and I frequently participated in the Westport Library's storytime programs. The featured stories—usually starring merchandising-friendly anthropomorphic animals or vehicles dreamed up by Disney marketing executives—were relentlessly cheerful, with lessons learned and happy endings for all.

I mostly get it—if you kill off Dora, who will star in next week's program?—but the absence of ethical complexity does raise the question: at what point do we begin to introduce our children to the not-really-so-happy ending?

If you're inclined to start early, I say start with these three classic children's picture books:

The Three Little Pigs

Three pigs leave home to seek their fortunes. Pigs 1 and 2 meet their doom at a fox's hands after they fail to heed helpful advice related to sound home-building practices. Pig 3, however, builds a solid brick home. When the fox discovers he cannot blow down Pig 3's house as he did the first two pigs, he devises a series of elaborate ruses to lure the pig out of his home, but he outwits the fox, who has clearly underestimated Pig 3, each time. When the fox attempts to enter Pig 3's house through the chimney, the clever pig is prepared. The fox falls into a pot, which is set upon a roaring fire, and thus becomes Pig 3's supper.

Henny Penny

When an acorn hits her on the head, dimwitted alarmist Henny-Penny believes the sky is falling. She sets off to alert "the king" to this impending disaster, picking up a crew of four along the way. Alas, they fall for a clever fox's ruse—he promises them a short-cut but instead lures them into his lair where he beheads three of Henny-Penny's cohorts.

The fourth survives the initial attack and calls out to Henny-Penny. It is unclear whether this is to warn her or call for back-up because she "turns tail" and runs home, abandoning her mission. The fate of her fourth companion remains unknown.

The Gingerbread Boy

A childless elderly woman bakes a Gingerbread Boy to provide companionship for her husband and herself. Alas, when the wife opens the oven, the Gingerbread Boy runs away. A variety of creatures chase him while verbalizing their intentions to consume him, but he manages to elude them all, causing him to swell with premature pride. Shortly thereafter, he encounters a crafty fox, who offers to carry the Gingerbread Boy across a river to escape his pursuers.

Long story short, the Gingerbread Boy ends up perched on the fox's nose. Upon exiting the river, the fox opens his mouth, and the Gingerbread Boy falls into it. The fox thus consumes the Gingerbread Boy, and everyone else trudges home defeated except the fox, who nestles adorably under a tree and has a nap.

Though lacking the comforting illusion that everyone makes the right decision in the end on display in contemporary confections, these old school favorites are chock-full of age-old wisdoms—never underestimate a foe no matter how vulnerable he may seem, friends can only be trusted so much, and if you harbor bad intentions, it's best to conceal them from your intended victim.

Just what every preschooler needs to navigate the playground's treacherous social politics. Because we can install squishy surfaces of reconstituted plastics to cushion their falls, but we can't stop their peers from pushing them down on it.