Much to my dismay, Olivia has not shown much interest in the Olivia the Pig books written by Ian Falconer. I suppose this is because the drawings are pretty minimalistic and lacking in color, basically black and white with only some pops of red. The stories are told in simple, straightforward sentences rather than cute, sing-songy rhyme. Admittedly, there is nothing that would catch and keep the attention of a baby or young toddler. This is a shame because I adore these books. They are adorable, quite brilliant really, and every time I read them I can’t help but think that my Olivia bears a striking resemblance to her porcine namesake (in personality only, of course).  Olivia (my daughter, not the pig) is, however, very much interested in the more lively, colorful books based on the “Olivia” cartoon on Nickelodeon. I would try to explain to her that the cartoon was inspired by, and would not exist without, the Ian Falconer books and she should, therefore, give them their proper respect, but I don’t think she’s ready for that conversation quite yet. So while, upon Olivia’s assistance, we read Olivia Says Good Night every night before bed, which is enjoyable mainly because of how much Olivia enjoys it, Ian Falconer’s original, Caldecott Honor-receiving Olivia sits untouched on the bookshelf. It has not moved since I last tried to introduce it about two or three months ago…until today.

I enter Olivia’s room this afternoon to find it (and several other books) sitting on the floor. I immediately get excited. Did she get that down on purpose? I wonder if she’ll let me read it to her. 

“Look, Olivia! Do you know who that is?” I point to the picture on the cover, but she seems more interested in the shiny silver Caldecott emblem.

“Circle,” she says, as she runs her finger over the smooth foil-like texture.

“That’s right, a silver circle. But who’s this? Is that Olivia the Pig?” But she has already moved on, now rummaging through her collection of toys and non-Olivia books stowed away in her cabinet. I’m too excited. She’s onto me. I need to take it down a notch. Let’s just start reading.

“Olivia by Ian Falconer. This is Olivia. She is good at lots of things. She is especially good at wearing people out.” I knew I had her from page 2.

“Olivia, look! She’s kicking a red bouncy ball! Look!” Olivia turns around to face me and the many little drawings of Olivia the Pig engaged in various activities, including what appears to be kicking a small, red bouncy ball. In another, she is holding a bowl and stirring its contents with a red spoon. Together we point out a few silly things that Olivia the Pig is doing in some of the pictures, and then we turn the page and continue reading.

I was so excited that Olivia was finally allowing me to read this book to her that I think I enjoyed it even more today than I ever have in the past. But, by far, the best part was what happened when Olivia the Pig visited the museum. In the book, “there is one painting that Olivia just doesn’t get,” about which she says, “I could do that in about five minutes.” The referenced painting is one by Jackson Pollock, and the book features a full-color photograph of the actual painting. I pointed it out to Olivia and said, “See, Olivia? That’s a painting by a famous artist named Jackson Pollock.” Her immediate reply: “He made a mess.”

Oh, Olivia. I suppose everyone’s a critic, though I can’t say I’m a big fan of abstract expressionism either. At barely the age of two, Olivia’s “coloring” is still basically scribbling. Ironically, her “drawings” resemble the works of one Mr. Pollock.