Backstory: Behind The Butt Book (continued)

Every good book tells a story and The Butt Book is no exception. My thesis is that the butt is the Rodney Dangerfield of body parts: it gets no respect. You've only to think of words and expressions associated with the butt: butthead, buttface, buttbrain, butt in, butt out, kick one's butt, kiss one's butt, butt-ugly, buttinsky, buttoutsky, pain in the butt, butterfingers. But I attempt to rebut that notion by making a compelling case for how vital it is ("Without your butt you're incomplete. You couldn't use the toilet seat"). And it is my sincere hope that it will someday be draped in laurels, having earned a seat of honor.
          Let me share a funny story: When the proofs arrived and my eleven-year-old niece read it aloud, she was so excited she insisted on reading everything, even the cataloging information. She got up to the dedication and she read: "To Leah, my moose." (It actually says, "To Leah, my muse.") Now, as you can see from this picture of my wife, Leah, I've no idea why she characterized her as such.
          And I can personally vouch for the powerful effect this book has on youngsters. I read it aloud to my twin five-year-old nieces and their three-year-old sister, who had all just finished leafing through a Dora the Explorer sticker book. By the time I was done, my behind (trousered, of course) was completely covered, from head to toe, with Dora the Explorer stickers. So we see that The Butt Book has the power to motivate children.
          Well, I know that you will get untold minutes of pleasure from The Butt Book and that it will become an indispensable part of your library, alongside your dog-eared copy of The Dinosaur Joke Book: A Compendium of Pre-Hysteric Puns and your Complete Works of William Shakespeare. Bottoms up!