In her experience, grown-ups weren’t too eager to read out loud books about kids with exploding heads. But then she paused and told me who my biggest hurdle would be: the parents. She laughed along as I told her about the story, and agreed there would be lots of children who might enjoy Kenny Kaboom’s adventures. She’d been a grade-school teacher for decades and seemed like exactly the person to tell me if my book would appeal to kids. I’d call it “The Adventures of Kenny Kaboom.”Ī few weeks later, I visited my mother-in-law. Then he’d grow a new head and have the same fun all over again. Even better, the head exploded like a bomb. He had the power to remove his own head and throw it at things. The story would be about a boy whose greatest joy came from demolishing his surroundings. On one of those occasions I imagined a book based on a child like ours. Once on his feet, he’d trot across the living room, wobbly as a foal, then slam into the far wall and cause a painting to buckle and fall. Using a tabletop to pull himself to his feet, he might snag on a lamp wire and send it smashing to the ground. When our son learned to walk, he nearly destroyed our home.
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