He says the word nonstop when he’s requesting the book, but also when we’re reading the book. “Foodle!” He exclaims as soon as I’ve finished a book. Some nights I’ll start off with another book, hoping that he’ll give Froodle a rest for just one night, but Boo Boo’s a toddler now and his once reliably nonexistent memory is a thing of the past–as extinct as his convenient lack of mobility.

“Foodle.” He urges when I’m on the toilet.

Whether he can see it or not, any time Boo Boo gets within a five-foot radius of the book and the Froodle alarm sounds. The book currently resides in the good-night book basket on our bedside table. My mom saw it and knew it would be a hit and sent it from Kansas City, wrapped in love. He must have found it refreshing to read something in his own tongue, because we have read Froodle once a day since it came in the mail a few weeks ago. Not only does it have animals, but it has animals that are speaking his language. Meow and woof? How about Shmoodle and skerpoodle instead!īoo Boo loves this book. Not your typical birdsong! Even the neighborhood dogs and cats join the linguistic rebellion. Flodden, yots, bleemish and ots, they say.

In fact, in Froodle, author and illustrator Antoinette Portis alters the morning soundscape entirely. This nonconformism sparks controversy among the neighborhood’s aviary class, which includes a crow, a dove and a cardinal, who have been dutifully sticking to their respective scripts: caw, coo and chip.Įventually the birds all go off-script, some drama from the crow notwithstanding, and everyone lives happily ever after, each to the tune of their own tweet. One day she says something different: “Froodle spoodle!” Here a peep, there a peep, everywhere a peep, peep. It is also Boo Boo’s newest favorite book.įroodle is about a little brown bird who is tired of saying the same thing every day.

Froodle book