An alternative take on Julia Donaldson’s The Gruffalo’s Child

 

The Mamalo said that no child should,
Enter school on March 1st dressed as Red Riding Hood.
“Why not? Why not?” “Because if you do,
The World Book Day snobs will be after you.
I’ve seen them before,” said the Mamalo.
“On Facebook, Instagram, Youtube and Vimeo.”
“What are they like? Tell us, Mother.
Do they pretend to be friends whilst trying to outdo one another?”

“Where do I start?” The Mamalo said,
Hiding an Asda receipt for a costume under her bed.

“Red Riding Hood will not do, with a red cape and bow,
You must hand-stich a moustache to look like Edgar Allen Poe.
For there is no tale of greater woe,
Then of those who’ve been Harry Potter three years in a row.”

One snowy day, as Mamalo sighed with despair,
Over something about which the child couldn’t less care,
The Child explored the literary delights to be found,
Created by the competitive parents on the school playground.

The snow fell fast and the wind blew wild.
“Why am I dressed like this, again?” asked the Mamalo’s Child.

Aha! Oho! A dark reflection in the snow!
What nuanced interpretation of literature will it bestow?
Contrasting materials and reflective thingymabob,
Could this be the work of the Big Bad Snob?

Around turned the child, clearly not one of the pros,
As his tribute to Funny Bones was just his skeletal night clothes.
“You’re not the Snob?” “No, my mum thinks this day is crap, to be honest.
But the Snob’s over there, claiming her efforts are just modest.”

The snow fell fast and the wind blew wild.
“Why am I dressed like this, again? Asked the Mamalo’s Child.

Aha! Oho! A prop in the snow!
Accessories are a must, didn’t you know?
Bright colours and sequins – a domesticated person’s job.
Could this be the work of the Big Bad Snob?

A blue dress, a bow and some old crockery,
A last-minute Alice resourced by lost property.
“You’re not the Snob?!” “Oh no, not quite.
She’s run off in a panic over a broken fairy light.”

The snow fell fast and the wind blew wild,
“Why am I dressed like this again?” asked the Mamalo’s Child.

Aha! Oho! A ghost costume in the snow!
Another ‘family project’ that was done solo?
No paper mache or crafty treat,
Just a freshly salivated on white bed sheet.

“You’re not the snob.” “No, she’s wearing colours that are assorted,
Combing the wool that she’s had especially imported.”

“It’s all just a trick!” Said the Mamalo’s Child,
As she bumped into a six-year-old Oscar Wilde.
“I don’t believe in the Big Bad Snob…
But here’s someone that’s done a mediocre job!
Not great, not terrible, but the kind of result
That could possibly warrant a thinly veiled insult.

“Wait, wait, wait! Before you mock,
Let me show you something that’s sure to shock.”
The Child spied a glue gun clenched in her fist.
“The Big Bad Snob – so she does exist!”
“Just let me hop on to this deserving platform
And I’ll show the result of a five-page brainstorm.”

Out came the sun, it was bright and round.
An overcompensating shadow fell onto the ground.

Who is this creature so perfectly groomed?
The facial hair so lifelike – from the corpse it was exhumed.
The outfit’s beautifully tailored, every seam a hand-stitch,
It takes the attention away from the boy’s new nervous twitch.
Commanding attention; a bestower of sight
Because attached to the coat are flashing fairy lights.
Boasting superior knowledge and skills- a brilliant conjunction.
What does is matter if the child’s starting to malfunction.
Oh help! Oh no!
It’s an illuminated Edgar Allen Poe!

 

#Worldbookday