Let's Find Out - [My 90's Nostalgia] The Giving Tree & Where the Wild Things Are | ASMR

Episode Date: May 1, 2019

These books are some of the most widely known, read, and listened to by children since the 1960's. And it's no surprise. Their stories are powerful. The imagination is a powerful thing, and timeless children's books like these are a testament to brilliant capturing of it in word and art. I hope you, the kids, or the grandkids can relax and enjoy as much as I have. *Molly's mom recently dropped off a TON of things from Molly's childhood. So I will probably make this a short series throughout March. Thanks for watching. #ASMR #TheGivingTree #WhereTheWildThingsAre

So would you look at what Molly's mom found by Shell Silverstein? The tree was now often and carried. Stayed away. We see now she was so happy. She could hardly speak. Cut down, said the tree. You can sail away and be happy. So the boy, cut down, her tree was happy.

It feels good for sitting and resting. come boy sit down sit down and rest boy did was happy the end pictures by Maurice Sendak this book is a celebration it's another great example of a celebration of the imagination that we are encouraged to use as children and I hope increasingly more as adults. Caldecott Medal for most distinguished picture book of the year. A little bit beat up. You can see where Molly's dog have nibbled it a little bit years and years ago.

I really love this opening scene, more of a picture. You see the cross, the cross hatching, main character wolf suit, and made mischief of one kind, and a string of sheets into the wall, sent to bed without eating anything. To the place where the wild things are, they roared their terrible roars, their terrible teeth, their terrible eyes, and showed their terrible claws. Max said, be still. their yellow eyes without blinking once and they were frightened

and was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all then from far away across the world he smelled good things to eat so he gave up being king of where the wild things are

wild things cried oh please don't go we'll eat you up we love you You saw. And the Max said, no, the wild things are roared in their terrible roars, gnashed their terrible teeth, their terrible eyes, and showed their terrible claws. But Max stepped into his private boat and waved.

Goodbye. And sailed back over a year and in and out of weeks. And through the day of his feet. very own room where he found his supper waiting for a series famous artist he didn't always write the books but his style of painting is very distinct it looks like paper machet or watercolor i'm not i'm not really sure to be honest with you but this is another one mollie had boxes. They're recently emptied out of the attic. This one's called the lamb and the butterfly. Pictures by Eric Carl. What looks like a beautifully complex field of grass, I would say.

Mist idea. My mother flies one way while I fly another. With a zig and a zag and a zig-a-zag. The butterfly fluttered and landed on a dandelion, kicked up her heels, and ran after him. Where is your home? The lamb asked, the butterfly. The world is my home, answered the butterfly. I'm free to fly anywhere. The zig and a zag and a sickety-zag. The butterfly fluttered away and landed on a bristle-thistle.

Damn, it kicked up her heel and ran after him, but where do you sleep? The lamb asked, the butterfly. I sleep where I please, said the butterfly to the lamb. Wherever I am, well, that's where I sleep. A zig and a zag and a zig-de-zag. The butterfly fluttered away and landed on a poppy, kicked up her heels, and ran after him. Why do you flutter so?

The lamb asked the butterfly. Why shouldn't I fly? flutter, the butterfly asked in reply. Well, lambs don't flutter, said the lamb to the butterfly. We walk a straight line. One follows the other. But I don't follow anyone, said the butterfly to the lamb. I go wherever I choose, and now I choose to leave this meadow. With a zig and a zag, he said. The butterfly left the meadow and landed on a sunflower. The lamb ran after him. Come back, come back, she cried. I want to ask you a question. What's your question? The butterfly asked the lamb. Please don't leave me. The lamb implored the butterfly. That's not a question,

said the butterfly to the lamb. Put it in the form of a question. And the lamb said, Why don't you stay with me? My mother will take care of you. With a zig and a zag, in a zig-a-zag, in a zig-de-zag. The butterfly flew into the sky.

I don't need anyone to take care of me, said the butterfly to the lamb. I'm on my way, he cried. Goodbye. Goodbye. Very moment of fierce, black cloud. darkened the sky and rain began the fall an angry gust of wind caught the butterfly's wings and he was swept out of sight then the lamb heard her mother bleeding and she hurried to her side what were you doing at the far end of the meadow the mother asked the lamb i followed the butterflies said the lamb to her mother and now he's lost in the store warm. Poor butterfly, said the mother to the lamb. But that's what happens when you go fluttering

this way and that. We'll never see him again, said the lamb to her mother. He's gone forever. And then the mother asked, what is that on your back? What is that on my back? The lamb asked her mother. Isn't that a butterfly? The mother asked the lamb. And she was right. Sure. I'm Enough, there on the back of the lamb was the butterfly himself. His wings were wet and bedraggled. Now will you stay? The lamb asked the butterfly. Let me think about it, said the butterfly.

To the lamb as he dried out his wings. Slowly the butterfly tried to flutter with a zig, zig, zig, zig, and a zag, zag, zag, in a zig-e-zag-zag, and a zig-egetty zig-zag. He managed to reach a honeysuckle vine In one of its blossoms He found a pool of nectar And he sipped And he sipped

And he sipped So what have you decided The lamb asked the butterfly I'd like to stay Said the butterfly to the lamb But I really must be on my way I'm heading south, you know But why go south?

cried the lamb, because I don't have a woolly coat like yours to keep me warm. If I stayed, I'd freeze. If that is so, set the lamb to the butterfly. I won't try to stop you. Please don't think of me ungrateful, set the butterfy to the lamb. And spreading out his wings and the splendid act of flight, he zigged and he zacked and he ziggied his act. And soon was lost from sight. This time the lamb did not kick up her heels and run after him. She walked instead to her mother's side and never asked a butterfly to join a flock of sheep again. I hope it was something fun and useful to relax too.