Rabbiting On

While I am learning to rest (very hard – resting is terribly boring), I have been sharing books with Fluff (10) and Chip (8). I read two chapters and they read one. I say learning to rest because it’s so hard to not overdo it and end up in bed a day later hardly able to move… stoopid neurons!

Anyway, I just wanted to share what we have been reading:


When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit is the semi-autobiographical story of Anna, a little girl growing up in Berlin in 1933, who has to run away with her family because – as she learns – they are Jewish. I say semi-autobiographical because it (and the two sequels) are based on the life of Judith Kerr, well-known children’s author and illustrator of books such as The Tiger who Came to Tea.

We have also watched some of The World at War on DVD, which was a useful discussion-starter (still as powerful as ever!). It is wonderful to share books with my girls, especially as they grow. Some good discussions result and I know my girls are learning, in a small way, that life can be unpredictable, that great evil can and has been inflicted on human beings by human beings, and that at the same time great love and courage has been shown from one human being to another, sometimes when they had never even met before. Of course, in my view this is a reflection of the abounding, unending love that is God, made incarnate in the Son, and reflected (perhaps more weakly) in Followers of Jesus; this is why it’s actually a great book to read during Advent. It’s also an eye-opener reading this book from an adult’s perspective. Kerr is a gifted writer and I can’t recommend this book highly enough.

I had better go – I have  a little girl to pick up from school. The other one’s off with “tonsillitis in my eye… no, I mean convuntilitis… no, I mean conjunctivitis“. Chip’s so funny – yesterday she said, “I’m sensitive, aren’t I, Mummy?” (we were having a discussion about different personalities).

“What makes you say that?” I asked, cautiously. ‘Sensitive’ is not a word I’d readily associate with my bright, bubbly, monkeyish youngest.

“Cos I’m sensitive to tickling…” She said, without a trace of a smile. I tried to stifle my giggles. What a blessing children are 😉