Dear “Author” Doreen Cronin:
Thanks for nothing.
Ever since your tell-all exposé I can’t go anywhere without the paparazzi on my segmented tail. I’ve had to go deep underground to avoid the cameras, but they’ve cut some sort of deal with the rain to drive me out of hiding.
You know, it’s hard out here for a worm
Dodging shoes as you hustle, flow and squirm
Spider says I’ve gotten too big for my britches (if I wore any – which I don’t by the way – but of course, you already know that). And my sister says the only good thing to come of this is the fact that my swollen head makes bigger tunnels.
I’ve got 2 words for you, Ms. Cronin.
Note: Like the best episodes of Sesame Street, Diary of a Worm works on 2 levels – one for the kiddos, who laugh when Worm falls on his head trying to imitate his pal, Spider, and one for adults, who appreciate Cronin‘s clever humor (“Never bother Daddy when he’s eating the newspaper.”)
The illustrations do just that, so be sure to pay special attention to Harry Bliss‘ details.