Thank you, Junie B. Jones and Barbara Park, for introducing me to the joys of reading.
When I was Junie B.'s age, my teacher and my parents agreed that I needed extra work to keep me quiet in class, as I was an advanced reader and often finished my work ahead of my classmates. They had me write a little nonfiction book about farm animals. I wrote that chickens lay eggs that people eat and then get killed to turn into fried chicken, chicken breast, chicken wings, chicken thighs, and chicken nuggets and strips. Pigs are killed to make bacon and ham. Cows produce milk, cheese, and other dairy, and then are killed to make hamburgers and barbacoa. I knew all this when my classmates thought that chocolate milk came from brown cows. All the pages were pentagon shaped, and my dad cut some thin wood into the shape of the barn. I painted it red, painted black doors and windows, and put some chicken, pig, and cow stickers. Mom hole punched the pages and the cover and bound it in twine. We still have that little book.
The above anecdote has nothing to do with the book, except I wonder how Junie B. would've reacted if the farmer showed the class how he slaughtered the chickens or a cow? She's so innocent and carefree and probably never realized that the chickens walking around were the same chickens on her plate. She would've been traumatized forever and probably couldn't eat meat until at least 2nd grade.
Also, I read these books in kinder and 1st grade, and Junie B.'s made-up words and bad grammar did not ruin me for life. In fact, she taught me to love to read, and I was so advanced I could write a short nonfiction book in 1st grade.