Der Struwwelpeter

I didn’t really do much yesterday, so I will post about something that happened at Bible study last Wednesday. We were at the house of people who had an infant. One of the Bible study participants who was originally from Germany brought a copy of an old children’s book to show the new mom and dad. It was called “Der Struwwelpeter”

It's a boy who never combed his hair or clipped his fingernails.

It’s a boy who never combed his hair or clipped his fingernails.

The book is full of stories about children who were naughty and the horrible, horrible fates they suffered because of it. My mom had an old copy of this book, and I used to love to look at it. I was delighted to see all these old stories again.

Anyone who has seen this book turns instantly to the story of the boy who wouldn’t stop sucking his thumbs. They want to see this picture:

*jibblie*

*jibblie*

His mom warned him that the guy with the scissors would come, but the boy didn’t listen. Now he doesn’t have any thumbs. Let that be a lesson to you, boys and girls.

He should have listened.

He should have listened.

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4 Responses to Der Struwwelpeter

  1. Lauren says:

    HA! I should read that book everyday in preschool. I’ve got some children who need horrifying, mind-scarring stories to change their ways. My German is pretty rusty, though. Is there one in there about picking your nose? Cohen needs to hear that as soon as possible.

    Good to see it was written by a Hoffmann. :)

    • Aunt Bev says:

      You Just Made Me Laugh Out Loud!!!

      Perhaps there should be a series written about “bad” childhood habits….wait, it could be for adults with bad habits, too!! Love, Aunt Bev :-)

  2. Peggy says:

    Ahhhhhh…..that is a horrible book! (But show us more please)

    What is the punishment for always having chocolate on your face (& shirt) I’m afraid to ask?

  3. Carol says:

    They just don’t write good literature like that any more, do they? ;-)

    [I grew up on an anthology of stories including Hoffman's The Nutcracker (and that was one of the more palatable ones). Dear hubby got me a copy of the original book I used to have (given to a young cousin years ago) and occasionally I return to the land of the Baba Yaga (witch who lived in a house on chicken legs deep in the forest; I believe she ate children or something equally gruesome) and the like. It's amazing I haven't spent my life in therapy...]

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