The first time my daughters and I read the simple story, Plant a Kiss, it quickly gripped then 4-year-old Hadley’s imagination. We both enjoyed the rhythm of the lyrical words and the cute pictures of a hopeful “Little Miss” who “planted a kiss.”
As we turned the pages, we followed Little Miss as she nurtured her kiss with water and sunshine, waited, hoped and doubted until, eventually, a happy-looking, confetti-like substance shot up from the ground.
Little Miss, despite her friends' naysaying, decides to share her harvest with everyone. The book sends the message that sharing something can be just as exciting and satisfying as keeping it for yourself.
The story is simple. There are never more than four words to a page and each picture is centered on a white background. Most of all, I liked the fact that the Little Miss had an idea and a little imagination. I liked that she doubted but persisted. And I liked that she didn't give into her friends' peer pressure.
As for Hadley, she was partial to the magical-looking growth shooting up from the planted kiss. A few weeks after we’d read the book, I was elbows deep in my flower garden and looked up to find her standing in a small, empty space in the corner of the garden, trowel in one hand and overflowing watering can in the other.
“Is this a good spot?” she asked, pointing to the empty corner plot.
“For what?” I asked.
“To plant a kiss.” And before I could offer a response, she began digging.