Some may find it surprising that a fairly intelligent child like me chose to entertain herself through such an unrealistic book (seriously, even a five-year-old knew what "dress the turkey" meant), but it's not as strange as it sounds.
I hate-read "Amelia Bedelia."
By "hate-read," I mean that I pored over the book, searching for every instance of implausibility and giggling to myself over how stupid I thought the book was. (Also because there was a nice drawing of a meringue pie, and as a child who didn't get desert very often, I got excited over any semblance of sweets in literature.) I still remember complaining about it with my sister when she gave me a confused look and a simple, "So what?"
"What do you mean, 'so what?'" I asked, exasperated. "This book is terrible! Look at how stupid Amelia is!"
She frowned. "So what? It's still funny."
I walked away from that conversation feeling more confused than I had in a long time. Could something be unrealistic and entertaining at the same time? Was it possible to like an illogical book? I realized that it's okay to have a some "stupid" fun in life, jokes that are way too cheesy to make sense, that it's okay to make bad puns and that every single thing that you say doesn't have to be articulate and perfect and literature-worthy.
And all that from a ripped up book with a slice of pie.