Fluffy s/c back

Possibly the most beautiful book in the world.

Fluffy is a bunny. A bunny rabbit. He is young and exuberant and lost in his own little world as all children are. He likes to sing, if only to himself:

"Someone's praying, me lord…
"Kumbuyah...
"Someone's praying, me lord. Kumbuyah.
"Someone's praying, my Lord..... kumbuyah.
"Oh Lord... Booby loob y loob."

That is precisely how that verse ends. I'm pretty sure of it.

Fluffy has to sing to himself because I'm afraid that his adoptive Dad, Michael, instead of paying attention to Fluffy and so seeing the unconditional love literally played out in front of him, is distracted by all his day-to-day-minutiae that figuratively grind him into the ground. This Simone Lia presents to us in a series of cranial cross-sections, revealing Michael's neuroses in a scientifically revealing cause-and-effect. What a numbskull!

Meanwhile Fluffy experiences all the joys of life. Loudly.

"I'll be like the farmer in my library book. He's good. I'll cut him out when we got home. Can I keep this book Daddy? Can I? Can I keep the book? Daddy you never listen to me."

Well, that's one library book not going back in one piece!

Not only does Simone Lia have the most superb ear for dialogue (including a child's easily distracted nature) but she's also a great observer of interaction (or lack of it) when people manage no more than an inattentive "very good" in lieu of paying attention.

Here is the crux of the matter when Michael occasionally sits Fluffy down for a heart-to-heart. Nothing I can type will render this as poignantly as a shop-floor show-and-tell, so please ask me for one:

"Fluffy. I'm not your real Daddy."
(Total lack of comprehension) "Yes you are, Daddy."
"No, I'm a man and you're a bunny."
(Looks askew and askance, lost for words. Then…) "I'm not a bunny."
"You are a bunny. You're a bunny rabbit."
(Moth agape) "Why do you keep saying that?"
"Because it's true."
"I'M NOT A BUNNY. YOU'RE A BAD DADDY FOR SAYING THAT."

Fluffy then clip-clops and trip-trops off, leaving Michael alone on the couch. With a pungent bunch of bunny droppings.