Last night my eight-yr-old and four-yr-old daughters came to me pleading for me to read Eloise .
We absolutely love, love, love the Eloise books written by Kay Thompson and illustrated by Hilary Knight. I didn't read them until I was thirty-eight-yrs-old, but have forever been reconnected to my childhood spirit by the spirit of this little girl. That being said, I'm aware there are two opposing camps on either side of the Eloise books.
Camp A says: Don't read her. She's spoiled! She's rude! She's sneaky! She's annoying!
Camp B says: She's only six! Weren't you six-yrs-old once? She's delightful! She's funny! Why...she's Eloise, for Lord's sake."
I, myself, have often wondered---infrequently---if I should allow her influence within my home or kick her royal little attitude out the door. But I can't discipline her; no more than I can discipline my inner child; no more than I can kick my own children's royal little attitudes out my door. I love this little six-yr-old; even more importantly, my girls do too.
My girls jumped onto my bed and eagerly awaited my consent. Few times is Eloise not admitted entrance into our home. With their pleading eyes, my girls looked remarkably like their heroine Eloise. How could I tell them that I didn't have time. I put aside what I was doing and, with a sigh, jumped onto the bed...or, rather, climbed in with a slower gait. Afterall, I am no longer six-yrs-old.
They were tickled and began to applaud the anticipated read. As I opened our copy of Eloise: The Ultimate Edition, my eight-yr-old leaned on my lap and read the notation on the cover page: "To: Drama Queen...Love: Mom (with a smiley face)...I look forward to reading this with you this school year and I hope you make it to Paris one day! (with a heart)" It was written in my very best stenciled handwriting and had been given to DQ the year she turned six-yrs-old and began first grade.
I cozied up with my girls and began to read. We have read this book many times but each time is more fun than before. The pictures at left and right were taken by my husband about two years ago. As you can see, Eloise 
has a long track record in our home and the girls' expressions are still the same. The Eloise books never lose their freshness. We are zipped away (at a breath taking speed) to the Plaza Hotel where Eloise lives with Nanny.
There is one noticable absence in the book---that of Eloise's mother---which, to a large extent, probably explains Eloise's behavior. Of course, there is Nanny, a compellingly lovely presence who cares for Eloise and is a comfort to a child without a parent. The realization that I am here to read the Eloise stories to my girls makes it especially endearing to be six-yrs-old again.
Eloise made her appearance. We skibbled. We skiddered. We slomped. We scurried. We scuffed. We scampered. We soared through the Plaza Hotel with Eloise. We ran up the stairs and rode the elevator all the way up to the 15th floor, then back down again. We took the most delightful bawths and pretended the showerhead was a telephone and we were saving people who were drowning in a terrible storm out in the ocean. We put Kleenex boxes on our heads and shoes on our ears and sunglasses on our dog. And we called room service and said, "Merci and charge it please."
The drawings held the attention of my four-yr-old. She was entranced and remained still and attentive---inspecting each and every illustration---and quiet, except when yowling with tummy-tickling laughter at Eloise's antics and charades. Starr is especially fond of the "dog that looks like a cat" and whose "...name is Weenie." The drawings compliment the tone and style of the book so well it's remarkable. The two cannot be separated. My girls see how utterly horrible Eloise's room looks. They see how absolutely appalled people are by her attitude. They know---without me telling them---that anything drawn in red is a part of Eloise's brilliant six-yr-old imagination...an imagination that vividly resembles their own.
The Eloise song sums her up quite well:
"(Chorus) Who's the little darling who'll drive you out of your head but you love her just the same?
(Eloise) After all, I'm only six."
Six! Remember when you were six? What a delightfully unpretentious age exhibited through a pretentious child. What other age allows you the freedom to skip down halls and slide down stairway banisters, pretend your bathtub is a boat and you know as much as the Switchboard Operator? What other age allows you to have teatime treats on the floor with your pets, pretend you're sick in hopes of getting jello and lollipop treats, and pretend you've been to Mars? At what other age can you medically operate on your dolls, shine a flashlight in a grown-up's face, walk around with bottle caps behind your knee caps...and get away with it?
Age six, of course. Eloise takes us all back to that marvelous age.
It's an age you can never recapture. It's the most fun you'll ever have. After all, how often do you get to get to be six? Once? It's once in a lifetime.
Or perhaps twice...thanks to Eloise.
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