Finding My Bearings with This Is Not My Hat
The other night, as the clock ticked toward bedtime, I found myself caught in the delightful chaos that often descends at our house. My youngest was adamant about finding the "perfect book" for our nightly reading ritual, while my older one—who’s been known to passionately advocate for their favorites—swayed between three beloved storybook companions. Finally, in a moment of compromise and with a hint of curiosity, I picked This Is Not My Hat by Jon Klassen. I had heard so much about it, and I figured it might be a fun experiment, if nothing else.
As we settled in with our cozy blankets, I opened the book to find a tale of a little fish who steals a big fish’s hat. The prose is straightforward, yet captivating in its simplicity. The little fish, full of bravado, believes he can escape with his ill-gotten gain. It’s a tale that’s undeniably quirky; the humor falls on the darker side, though, which struck me more than once as I read it aloud. My kids, ages four and six, seemed entranced by the little fish’s antics, giggling at the audacity of his theft but also puzzled by the character’s eventual fate. “What will happen to him?” my oldest wondered, eyes wide with both intrigue and concern.
Speaking of intrigue, the illustrations by Klassen left me feeling a bit adrift. They’re minimalistic, with muted colors and simple forms that failed to ignite any emotional spark in me. The ocean backdrop felt flat and somewhat stagnant, lacking the vibrance I often seek in children’s literature. But my children seemed to feast their eyes on the visuals more than I did. They were especially captivated by the big fish lurking ominously, a clear visual contrast to the cheeky little thief. “Is he going to catch him?” they wondered aloud, prompting an impromptu discussion about choices and consequences.
Though I appreciate a good cautionary tale, I found myself grappling with the intensity of the implied message. The ending, although deliberately ambiguous and intended to provoke thought, left me concerned about my little ones’ interpretation. Was that really an appropriate message for young children? My heart sank as I sensed the questioning atmosphere shift from giggles to something heavier. “Why would the big fish eat him?” my youngest whispered. This prompted a discussion that wasn’t just about fish and hats; it steered toward the complexities of right and wrong, which felt a tad overwhelming for their ages.
In terms of reactions, I didn’t quite anticipate the gravity of my children’s engagement. One moment that stood out was when we laughed at the little fish’s “sneaky” nature. My oldest, with a cheeky grin, said, “Mom, are you going to steal my hat?” It was a lighthearted moment that eased some of my concerns, reminding me that sometimes, kids just want to have fun with the absurdity of it all.
All in all, while This Is Not My Hat might resonate with many families—especially those who appreciate humor dipped in darkness—my own connection was complicated. I wouldn’t categorically label it a family favorite, but I can see certain children, especially those intrigued by stories with moral dilemmas, finding joy in it. For me, it provided an unexpected moment of dialogue on ethics at the dinner table—not what I had in mind for bedtime stories, but oh, parenting is full of surprises.
If your little ones are particularly drawn to stories about bold adventures and moral conundrums—or if you thrive on exploring those heavy topics with your kiddos—this book may well find a comfortable place on your shelf. Just be ready to navigate the waters of discussion—because, like the ocean, they can get deep.
