Who did it? I'm going to count to three, and if one of you little fulkers doesn't fess up, no one is getting popsicles.
J/k. I got this on one of my forays into the Great White North, or the Greater Whiter North of northern Minnesota. (I live in southern Minnesota, you see, and we speak with a twang and adhere to all of the caricature of southernly people. You can fill it in yourself.) I picked it up because kids and poop go together like gravy and cheese curds, especially if you put them on fries. It's gross, but it's also funny.
Sadly, this book is weird and disappointing. It's part of a fairly large series of Who Pooped in the Park? books, and I feel like maybe when they got to the Northwoods, after dumping on Yosemite
and seeing a man about a horse in the Grand Canyon
, they'd used up all of their best, ahem, material. Seriously, how many books about scat can one write, James Joyce notwithstanding?
The plot here is that a family of total dorks goes out into the forest and finds dung of various stripes, and the son makes fun of the daughter a ton for being afraid of bears. I kept thinking this might be a sly reference to the old bear and rabbit take a dump in the woods joke, which goes something like this:
Bear: Rabbit, do you have a problem with shit sticking to your fur?
Rabbit: Why, no, Bear, I do not.
And then the bear wipes his ass with the rabbit.
Alas, I think maybe this author was playing the whole thing very straight, a feeling that is both reinforced and complicated by the fact that all of the people are drawn like Archie comics, but in these weird action poses. The find otter scat and *zing* they point at it in this super kung fu way! Action crap!
I did like the parts where they drew out stuff like jelly-beans and deer poop in a little side-bar. That made me think maybe the author had a sense of humor. Either way, the kids laughed themselves sick, and then asked me three thousand times if there were bears outside the tent. There are, I said, but they're really only looking for rabbits.