You Can’t Have That Wish, My Little Bear

I would like to write a post in praise of Else Holmelund Minarik‘s Little Bear books with their illustrations by Maurice Sendak – but this is not that post. Indeed, I can’t have that wish at this point. What I want to do is speculate on the enduring power of the words in children’s books, and therefore to start with Little Bear, which provided some phrases that still get an airing at various times in our family.

The title for the blog post gives us the first. When Little Bear can’t sleep, his impossible wishes – actually extreme negotiating positions as he angles for a story – are met with Mother Bear saying You can’t have that wish, my Little Bear. In an earlier story in this little collection, Little Bear sees his lunch set out and says it looks like a good lunch for a little bear. Both of these passed into our family’s phrasebank, and we even now have a big black pot, which means we can ask about dinner by saying Is it in the big black pot? and birthday cakes are sometimes greeted by Birthday Soup is good to eat, but not as good as Birthday Cake. There is a wonderful cadence in all these phrases that means they lend themselves to repetition, and nostalgia for times when we were parents of young children keep them alive, no doubt.

Little Bear now has “his” own YouTube channel, with the animated stories in gentle colours, but it’s that gentle, simple and very open-to-interpretation prose in the books that delighted us. But is it just us? I would love to know if other families found it to have such an impact – and if other books have added to family phrasebanks. Did Snufkin listening to laughter, running feet, and the clanging of great bells far out to sea stick in someone’s vocabulary? Or the Elephant and the Bad Baby‘s rumpeta, rumpeta, rumpeta all down the road accompany many shopping trips?

And if so, what made such phrases not only have immediate quotability but longer-term stickability too? Was it the power of an original context? The prosody? The story? And what from more recent books has – or might in the future have – that power?

3 thoughts on “You Can’t Have That Wish, My Little Bear

  1. Hard to have any hard and fast rules about lasting family reads and their favourite phrases. Green Eggs and Ham provided a few of these, I suppose; I love the emotions of the episodes Little Bear’s Visit (extra resonance once I became a grandparent) but I think I retain nostalgia for picture books I’ve read but my own adult kids look askance when I try to engage them.

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  2. I’m pushing 60 and on a fairly restrictive diet. As I longingly looked at a freshly baked carrot muffin sitting on the kitchen counter and reached for my muffinless coffee, I whispered to myself my age-old comfort phrase, “You can’t have that wish, my Little Bear.”

    And I immediately needed to see if anyone else in the world does the same thing, and I found your post.

    I imagine the baby and children’s books we read as kids, and also those we read /to/ our kids, play a lasting and important role as we go through our own lives.

    I can think of lots of others. “Are you my mother?” “Never give your goldfish too much food! Something might happen, you never know what!” (That’s not quite the correct quote, but that’s how it is in my head.) It also goes back, somewhat indirectly, to Dr. Seuss.

    One of my favorites (can change by the day): “The Rolie Polie Rumba Dance / was always done in underpants!” That always puts things into perspective.

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