The New American Girl

For Christmas in 1979, my parents gave me the best present in the whole world, My Book About Me by Dr. Seuss and Roy McKie. The big, yellow hardback—a veritable tome by my childlike standards—contained the most complete and unabridged encyclopedia of my eight-year-old life.

Page after page of meticulously filled in blanks confessed my love for Oscar Mayer wieners, and reported the number of steps from my door to the first tree. Judging from the sketch of a bird I named “George” on page 45, I was wise not to choose “artist” from the exhaustive list of future occupations a few pages later. There are lots of ways to boost a kids’ self-confidence—sports, drama, praise of a job well done. And for generations Dr. Seuss has been doing his part, too—in my case giving the youngest of three girls permission to explore her surroundings on her own terms.

A few years ago, I was browsing in a Madison bookstore and stumbled upon a copy of My Book About Me. The idea that I could watch my daughter examine the carefree days of her youthful existence in the exact same way I had done thirty years earlier sent shivers of joy up my spine. I snatched up three copies (I was a little overzealous) and hid them away in a closet.

My seven-year-old’s last day of first grade is today, and I’m hoping My Book About Me will be the perfect graduation present. Chloe has finally reached the age of self-examination (I had no idea it happened so soon), drawing contrasts and comparisons to the world around her. She has discovered that when she’s annoyed she rolls her eyes just like her dad, and just like her mom she hates going to bed for fear she’ll miss out on all the action. While I find myself amused by a lot it, some of it’s starting to terrify me. She’s slowly beginning to wonder how others perceive her, like whether Braeden thinks she’s “girl-cute,” or what the school kids will say if they see her underwear while she’s hanging from the monkey bars in a skirt.

The self-examination that will soon develop into self-consciousness is the reason My Book About Me will be but one of several books on my young one’s summer reading list. There’s a new generation of reading material, much of it divided by gender, which builds on Dr. Seuss’s genius. The American Girl series has grown into a wonderful treasury of advice and activity-driven learning that celebrates girls with books that encourage them to “follow your inner star.”

If you don’t hang around little girls much, here’s a brief bio on American Girl. The Middleton-based company is famous for its line of historical dolls with accompanying biographies. They make Barbie and Lil’ Bratz look downright barbaric. Founded in 1986, Madison educator and entrepreneur Pleasant Rowland made a fortune when she sold the operation to Mattel in 1998. (The $205 million her husband Jerry Frautschi earned from the sale of the stock in the company paid for Overture Center).

One of several American Girl titles due out this September is Food & You. It teaches girls the building blocks of good health and nutrition in a fun and engaging way, promoting independent thinking and exploration as opposed to boring information overload. The book uses thought-provoking quizzes, Q&As and easy-to-digest language to tackle everything from the food pyramid to feeling fat.

Because we now know we establish our relationships with food from the day we latch on to breastfeed or take our first bottle, Food & You teaches girls to think about the kind of eaters they are. If you horse down more Happy Meals than dad’s home cooking, you need to make some changes in your eating style. “Whew! You’re a busy girl,” the book declares. “Try to make time for at least one sit-down meal a day.” A “Special Diets” chapter takes a Dear Abby approach to problem solving by dishing out advice on living with food allergies, being a vegetarian or being just plain picky.

I’m thinking the book might come in handy for Chloe and me during the vulnerable times in her life when there’ll be as much “acting out” as “acting in,” where feelings of low self-esteem and negative body image can so easily manifest themselves in eating disorders, from obesity or dieting to—Lord help me—starving herself or binging and purging.

I think Chloe’s really going to like My Book About Me. I hope she’ll spend less time in front of the computer and more time counting the steps from her mailbox to the first store. Meanwhile, I’m on a mission to spoon-feed her American Girl books like Food & You, Dance! (also due out this fall)—even Coconut’s Letter-Writing Kit (maybe encourage her to take up writing like her mom!). We’re already making our way through Just Mom & Me, with fun activities like guessing each other’s favorite things and coupons for spending time together.

I know books alone won’t save her from a lot of the hardships that lie ahead. I just hope they’ll reinforce the words of wisdom she hears a lot from me these days, the same words her grandma said to me: “Head up, shoulders back, and remember who you are.”