I’m afraid I’m about to get self-righteous and snobby and maybe a little preachy.

I didn’t set out to do that. I was going to write a snarky little post about how babies have terrible taste and the books they enjoy often have little literary or artistic merit. Something like:

WTF is up with Goodnight Moon, anyway? “Goodnight, nobody/Goodnight, mush”? It’s like somebody transcribed their peyote trip. And the artwork, arbitrarily alternatint from vertiginously lurid color blocks to black and white line drawings, is as discomfiting as a David Lynch movie, but far less visually interesting.

And don’t get me started on Baby Einstein…

But I did get started on Baby Einstein, and became a little horrified in the process.