, reads a bit like a Jeff Foxworthy comedy sketch, only less funny, less polished and less endearing. Rivenbark tackles some different territory, like the insecurity mothers feel creeping around the edges when someone asks our kid what they had for breakfast and the answer is a cookie instead of steel-cut oatmeal with organic fruit. The book's strength lies in those few, brief moments when Rivenbark manages to meld satire with a larger note that rings true for many female readers. I think this book would fall woefully flat for men or childless women. There are a few humorous observations anyone can enjoy like her reflection on the way politicians will talk about girls, booze and casual sex as an ice breaker for more substantive policy discussion as if hungover college students groggily recalling their latest hookups want to chat about school reform. But there are other moments like the agony of marathon dance recitals that may seem dull or beyond the realm of common experience for some readers.
The book loses steam about halfway through and Rivenbark's wit gives way to some tedious reading that forcibly reminded me of sitting at The Comedy Store in Los Angeles while a struggling comedian awkwardly stumbled through a poor set of jokes while the audience laughed uncomfortably, desperately waiting for the kid to take his final bow. That being said, it's an easy read with some very entertaining moments and a bit of mindless slog. If you're looking for a laugh, I'd read Sh*t My Dad Says
first.
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