Sometimes It’s Storks by L. J. R. Kelly (review)

In a seeming response to an inquiry about the origin of babies, this book launches a whopper of an explanation, certain to fool nobody. The parental response—in rhymed verse, no less—is equal parts worrisome and preposterous, emphasizing how the best laid plans for baby delivery can go madly astray: “The day was set; we called New York,/ and they decreed you’d come by stork/but the stork they chose was prone to think/of nothing else but food and drink.” Baby fell from the stork’s beak as the bird plunged for a fish, and a crocodile scooped up the little one and sold it to a whale, who passed the infant along from animal to animal on a transcontinental odyssey until the Brisbane Zoo, noting the delivery tag, forwarded baby to its rightful parents “at home where you belong,/ where the stork was heading all along.” In artwork as surreal as the tale itself, the narrating parents loom hugely and goofily over their little blue-faced child, their massive bodies, strong, comforting arms, and small, faraway heads appropriate for the perspective of one accustomed to viewing the world from a very low vantage point. The animal guardians are intimidating but harmless, while baby patiently goes with the flow. Expect listeners to giggle, eye roll, and return to the original question: but where do babies really come from?