How I originally began this post: I couldn't post yesterday because yesterday was Cooking Day, and I cooked so long and so hard my fingers turned to butter.
"What's that from?" I wondered. Then I realized it was from Little Black Sambo.
"Well, can't use that." Then I did a little research and found that in childhood I had read a proper version, in which the characters were illustrated as Indian instead of plantation slave caricatures.
At some point Mom wanted to donate the box of books marked "For Precious Grandchild" and I saw Little Black Sambo.
"You can't donate that," I said. "It's racist." (I had forgotten that my copy was racist about Indians instead of American slaves. (Pretty sure it's still racist, given that everyone's first name seems to be "Black."))
"Oh, that's stupid," she said, "It's a darling story about a boy and tigers and they run around a tree and turn in to butter."
Had I read my book more closely, I could have responded "Or, ghi, as it is called in India," but Mom was up on her haunches and blazing her Godzilla eyes at me, so I backed down.
(Frankly, the book is very slanted against tigers, if you want to know. Tigers are vain and will wear your shoes on their ears.)