Profile: Children's Book Writer Todd Parr

by Karen Sosnoski

Children's Book Writer Todd Parr

I am eating breakfast on our back deck with my 22 month old daughter when we hear from the busy street abutting our house a loud noise, some kind of engine, roaring by.

Forester whips her head around to face me. She opens her jelly-smeared mouth wide in that exaggerated way that nearly two year olds have to dramatize "surprise," then catches my eye, silent for a moment, ostentatiously holding in her observation until she is sure she has my complete attention. Once assured I am ready to listen, she leans forward and informs me in her best "instructor's" voice: "Some Mommies ride moto[r]cycles . . . 'member?"

How can I forget? My partner Fred and I have read her Todd Parr's The Mommy Book, from whence comes Forester's "memory" of mommies and motorcycles, at least a trillion times--only three trillion times less than we've read Forester's all time favorite, Parr's The Daddy Book, and one trillion times less than her close second favorite, Parr's The Family Book.

"Yeah. Mommy remembers. I remember. Sure. Some Mommies drive motorcycles. I know. And some Mommies drive mini vans, right?"

"Yeah. And some Mommies drive meany vans. [Thoughtfully.] Meany vans. [A thought worth pursuing.] Yeah. Some mommies drive . . . [she's forgotten the word for 'mini vans'] Some mommies drive . . .`member?"

"I remember." We settle down to finish our peanut butter and jelly rice cakes in companionable silence, satisfied that, for the time being anyway, we are on the same wavelength-a wavelength shared and enhanced by Todd Parr's children books.

With their neon colors, boldly drawn characters, and memorable silly moments-"some families are loud, awooOOO!"--Todd Parr's books are favorites among the toddler set and no doubt older kids as well. The children's book salesperson at our local Barnes and Noble claims they have difficulty keeping Parr's books on the shelves (hopefully not only because Forester pulls them all out each time we visit). Parr is a huge favorite in Japan where his work appears on furniture, milk cartons, t-shirts, the works. In this country Parr's artwork has been featured by Target, FAO Schwartz, Cheerios, and, most recently, will be appearing in Panasonic ads.

An enormous commercial and mainstream success, Parr's books and paintings, perhaps ironically, appeal to parents like me who sometimes feel marginalized, those of us who want to teach acceptance of and confidence in flexible gender roles ("some daddies work at home [vacuuming])" and sexual orientations ("some families have two mommies or two daddies") and varied family forms ("some families adopt children" [one duck parent, two baby ducks and a penguin child]").

Recently, our local librarian chose to read The Family Book at "The Little Onesies Story Hour." I was surprised, I guess, not only because this young librarian looks stereotypically conservative--pearl necklaces, tailored pant suits, high heels--but because unlike The Family Book, which manages both to naturalize and celebrate family diversity, many of the other rhymes, songs, and books focused on in Story Hour memorialize the traditionally gendered nuclear family. (I often wonder if the substantial number of babysitters, grandparents, and Dads in the group feel slighted when we sing our weekly song, to the tune of Frere Jacques, I love Mommy, I love Mommy, yes I do, yes I do . . . ).

To my delight, our librarian gave a high-spirited reading of The Family Book to a chorus of more than one caretaker's proclaiming "that's her/his favorite" and a surprising number of little onesies squealing their recognition of familiar lines and images. (And if I've learned anything from my readings and re-readings of Parr's books, I should never have stereotyped our librarian based on her appearance. Parr shows "it's okay to wear what you like" [a beehive hairdo]; it's probably okay to wear pearls and heels, that means . . . )

After the library reading, I began to wonder just how Todd Parr manages to make progressive ideas (LGBT parenting, single parent families, adoption, shared housing, to give only a few of many examples) so welcome to (and consumable by) mainstream audiences. I asked for a phone interview with the children's book author.

In our interview, I learned that Parr never set out to be a children's book writer. Before he wrote books, he worked as a flight attendant for United Airlines and tried confidently, despite frequent roadblocks, to sell his artwork. At a small showing of his paintings in San Francisco, an agent from Little Brown, drawn to Parr's "young, simple" style approached him. The Okay Book soon followed, and after that The Feeling Book, The Book of Underwear Dos and Don'ts and numerous other kid-crowd pleasers.

After publishing The Okay Book, Parr received a lot of positive feedback from parents and teachers for one of his pages, in particular. "It's Okay to have wheels," features a green-faced, spiky-haired kid in a purple wheelchair. Todd realized that his simplicity, frowned upon in some venues (like high school art class), was a gift in the children's book business. "I've learned that children really respond to [simplicity]." Although Todd doesn't want to write didactically and has no agenda per se, he thinks that simply presenting families and individuals as they are--varied in form and appearance if universal in their need for acceptance and support--teaches kids that it's natural for there to be more than one way to exist in the world and many ways to feel while existing.

"When people ask me, 'What are your books about?'" Parr says, "I start with 'It's Okay to be Different'--that's the serious side of what I do." "It's Okay to Wear Giant Underwear"--one of Parr's other better known observations--seems to be the humorous side of what he does. It's childish humor, to be sure, as are the repetitive cadences in most of his books--but that's the point.

Occasionally, Parr's up-front acceptance of non-traditional families and appearances has led to his books being pulled from libraries and schools in conservative locations, like Eagle, Idaho. Even then, the author recalls, he received passionate e-mails from librarians and teachers, asserting their love for his books and regretting the resistance they've run into from less open-minded parents. Parr can sympathize with their dilemma.

In Rock Springs, Wyoming, where he grew up, Todd Parr often felt misplaced, "a total misfit," not only because he was gay, but because he "didn't wear the same clothes, didn't want the same things . . ." as others living near him. His father, who had lived in Wyoming all his life and coached football there, was often confused by his son, Todd. Parr explains "it wasn't only the gay issue" but the fact that Parr felt drawn to creativity and art, a lifestyle his father admittedly knew nothing about. Parr's mother, who encouraged him to "go after what [I] wanted," died when he was sixteen, before Todd had "figured out much about myself."

As an adult, Parr has come to realize just how much his parents gave to him by "hanging with me even though they didn't understand;" many of his book prefaces express this gratitude and/or end on a hopeful note that differences among family members can be resolved by tolerance--no doubt another factor influencing these books' mainstream appeal. The Daddy Book ends with a statement that may be misleading, even annoying in its oversimplification--unless you read it like I do, as a prayer: "All Daddies want you to be who you are." Amen.

Parr, who keeps in touch with children through his work in schools across the country and for the Ronald McDonald House, does not feel kids need married parents to thrive. "There are parents who stay together who shouldn't be together because that's what you do. Everyone suffers." He feels kids need the love and support of caretakers, whether they're married or no. For his part, living in Berkeley, California, he views the same-sex marriage question with detachment. When his 82 year old grandmother questioned him about whether he would ever marry his male partner, he quipped, "Who wants to be married for 30 years?" Yet, on a serious note, he says that for both children and adults it's about having "someone important in your life . . ."

It's another morning. As usual, one of the most important someones in my life is nipping at my heels as I try to get dressed, nearly late for an appointment. "Some Mommies wear jeans," Forester observes, before opening up my closet to check out my growing pile of dirty clothes. I wait for her to point out that "Some families are messy." She doesn't. I wait for her to beg for her trillion and third reading of The Daddy Book. She does.

Half-dressed, I settle down to read the book. Forester relaxes, her head against my chest, already belting out a "la, la, la," anticipating how "some Daddies sing in the shower." I'm probably going to be late, I think as Fred joins us, waiting for his reading/caretaking shift to begin. Just as we get to the part where "some Daddies wear two different socks," my daughter flips back to the first page.

In turning away from the conservatism of my own upbringing (if not from the loving parents who raised me), I've had to give up so many of the more exclusionary rituals, even some of the books that at one time gave me comfort. I know this is why I so wholeheartedly love this new ritual--our repeated family readings (and recitations) of these open-minded books.

This Mommy is definitely going to be late.

And that's okay.


Karen Sosnoski, an Alternatives to Marriage Project board member, is a writer and mother living in Alexandria, VA. She and her partner Fred co-produced http://www.wedding-advice.orgWedding Advice: Speak Now or Forever Hold Your Peace, an exploration of contemporary American ambivalence about weddings and marriage.

Opinions expressed are those of the author, and do not necessarily represent the views of the Alternatives to Marriage Project.