When I was a kid, my mom used to cry every time she read this book to us. I remember being squished into the Lay-Z-Boy recliner with her and my younger sister, enjoying the rhythm of the story and the coziness, but feeling awkward about the tears. When I was a teenager, I attended a retreat in which one of the leaders read this book as part of her presentation. I bawled.

I got a copy of the book as a gift from my mom when I was pregnant. I told her I already knew I would be "hopeless" if I attempted to read it aloud and I joked that I wouldn't read it to my son until I had "practiced" reading it myself out loud for two weeks and was sure I could get through it without crying. But I have been "systematically" reading him the many children's books I received as gifts, and this one came up next on the shelf just days after I had proclaimed that I wouldn't read it aloud without sufficient preparation. So, I forged ahead.

I thought I was feeling strong the day I chose to begin reading it, but, nope. I was crying on the very first page. (It should be noted at this point that my son was only a little over a month old, so he was too young to feel awkward about mommy crying during story time. Maybe by the time he's old enough to notice I will have pulled it together.)

I did notice something upon my adult reading of the book that I'd never noticed before, and that is that the son has a rainbow mug next to his kitchen sink. I wonder if he is gay. We never see his baby's mother, and he is an older father (there is gray in his hair), which would be in line with the arduous years many gay men have to put in before they are able to adopt, probably even worse in the 1980s when this was published.

This interpretation lends a new poignancy to the story about unconditional love, at a time when many queer youth are still afraid to come out to their parents.

This led me to search online to see whether others had similar theories about the son's backstory, and I didn't find much. Instead, I saw how divisive this book apparently is, with half its readers adoring it as a story of unconditional love, the other half decrying it as "creepy" and comparing the mother to a "stalker."

I fall into the first camp. I was like, "Come on, the extreme lengths she goes to are a METAPHOR for the extreme love all parents feel for their children. Children's books are all about exaggeration -- they aren't meant to be taken LITERALLY."

Except I am just the kind of person who will pick apart children's media for imparting unrealistic or "creepy" messages ... which made me realize that there is absolutely NO way I can be objective about this book. Too much nostalgia, and too much love is wound up in my own memories of it, and my interpretation.

So this isn't so much a review as an explanation of my lack of objectivity -- and also an intention to impart that very same lack of objectivity to my own child(ren) by reading this to them when they, too, are too young to see it as anything but a book about love and cementing that interpretation evermore.

Just try and read this book out loud to a child without crying. I don't think I ever could.

It’s a very sweet concept, but I got slightly uncomfy when she rocked her teenage child, and incredibly uncomfy when she BROKE IN TO HIS HOUSE. Especially because she does all of this without consent.

I read this to my children both before AND after they were born, and I continue to read it to them to this day. It's an incredible story about the power and durability of unconditional love, and it should be on every child's bookshelf.

2-3 stars—Liked it, would recommend to certain people

Frankly, this book seriously creeped me out as a child. I probably had nightmares about old women breaking and entering and coming into my bedroom at night.

But as a mother, yes, this book is dear to me—at least the idea of it. When I'm cuddling my toddler close and already have forgotten how small he was as a baby, I cling a little harder and bite my lip to repress a sob. That's the feeling this book captures for so many mothers, and that's why it's treasured by so many women and given at so many baby showers and christenings.

Robert Munsch himself kind of creeps me out even as an adult, but when I learned that he wrote this as a song after his wife had a miscarriage, it moved me to want to give the man a side hug. Okay, maybe just a pat on the shoulder from an entire arm's length away.

Fuck this book

Reading this book as a parent is something so special. For a moment you realize the book is giving you your timeline with your kids. Then you realize that no matter how old they are, the true sentiment holds true. Whether they were able to take their first breath or not, even if all you heard was a heartbeat, your love for them lives as long as you do. The words hit differently when you've lost a child or miscarried. It feels like they're etched on your heart. I love this book and it is such a simple story but has such an emotional impact.

Memories of getting this read to me as a child! Love.

I will never forget when I read this book for the first time. I worked at Borders in the children’s department. As we put books on the shelves for the store’s opening, an employee made a face as they held up this book. A few days later, I stopped shelving to read the book and started sobbing.

I didn’t even have kids yet.

Now I do have kids. And I will love them forever. And it wouldn’t surprise me if Connor one day rocked his ancient and emaciated mother.