I am not a morning person. If it were at all possible, I would not utter my first word before 10am. As it is, however, I need to have conversations which go beyond grunts at half six in the morning, because my daughter is my very opposite.

What on earth do we talk about at the break of dawn, you may ask? Well, mostly lists: “What is your favourite Disney movie/who is your favourite author/what is your favourite book?”

Or: “Mama, in the movie we watched/book we read/play we saw/yesterday, who is your most favourite character?

“And your second?

“And your third?

“And your least favourite character?

“And your second least favourite character?

“And your third least favoutite?”

Answers such as: “The same as yours” or “None of them” or “All of them” do not count. And “Just because” is not a valid answer to the following analytical question: “But why?”

Last week was a relatively easy one. The morning quiz was about a book we were reading in Maltese. As an aside here: we are in perennial search for children’s books in Maltese with lovely illustrations and good story lines as opposed to Denfil-style plots with Ġużi cycling on a bike and Rita skipping a rope; or ones with illustrations so horrible that I can’t even bear to turn the pages.

My top character in Kamilla – originally a French book but published in Maltese by Merlin – is Dora’s mother. She wears huge specs, has lips like Angelina Jolie’s and likes to put up her feet while sipping a cocktail. She’s a frog.

Now I love French children’s books because in their own quirky way they mirror real life. There is no happily-every-after ending, instead the last chapter is simply okayish, with some semblance of restored order, but nothing much else. I tend to believe that this prepares children much more for real life than the prince-will-sweep-you-off-your-feet American tales.

Kamilla is a hedgehog. She lives with her gardener mother, her hunter father (he hunts caterpillars – even in spring) and her chatterbox sister, but one day after a family tiff, she packs up and leaves in search for the perfect family.

Kamilla made me realise one thing. For children, what matters is order

Along the way she meets a teenage frog and her mother; a baby pig who has multicultural parents; a sparrow who’s raised by a nanny owl; a wolf who lives with his extended razza u redika family; and a calf who has two bull fathers. (“Which one do you like best of the daddies?” The one with the side parting and grey cosy cardigan sounded like a safer bet than the one with spiky hair).

Never have I come across a book which refers to, in the simplest manner possible, the different kinds of families in such a direct and powerful way.

For once, I was the one posing the questions: “Who’s your favourite character,” I asked. “Is it Dora the teenage frog?”

She shrugged: “No, that’s just like us.”

It was not the calf either: “That’s like Leo from school, he has two mummies.”

It was not the sparrow, nor the pig, nor the wolf – she has friends who have similar situations at home.

Her favourite was a donkey adopted by a mare and a horse: “I don’t know anyone adopted! Do you know anyone?”

And therein kicked off a series of questions about adoption to assure herself that there was happiness and structure to the life of a child who is adopted as well.

I’m writing this because Kamilla made me realise one thing. For children, what matters is order. It does not matter the format in which that order comes in. Once everyone has a job and a title, and once there is a pattern in the family roles, then everything is boxed and they feel safe.

Yes, in a house with two parents and 2.4 kids, there is generally a little more balance and a better diffusion of affection. When the 2.4 kids go to school and are asked to draw their families they will do very predictable cut-out drawings, as opposed to more complex ones. But different cut-outs hanging on the walls will generate curiosity, and other children, although baffled at first, will ask and discuss patterns different to theirs.

I have hope that this new generation growing up will, in twenty years’ time, have a different perspective of the world. They will not look at people and situations different to theirs and say: “What’s wrong with them?” And that augurs well for tolerance.

This brings me to the final and most important question: If you had to read Kamilla, which would be your favourite character? And your second favourite? And your least?

krischetcuti@gmail.com
Twitter: @KrisChetcuti