My pick is The Giving Tree, and I’m not even sorry. That book ends with a boy who has taken a tree’s apples, branches, and entire trunk, returning as an old man to sit on her stump. And the tree, we’re told, was happy. No.

In my version, the tree gets one sentence of self-respect. Somewhere around the trunk request, she says, “I’ve given you apples, shade, and a boat. Buy lumber like everyone else, Todd.” The boy learns to plant his own orchard, the tree keeps her trunk, and children everywhere absorb a healthier lesson about relationships than “let people whittle you into furniture.”

Shel Silverstein was making a point about selfless love, I know. But I read it as a cautionary tale wearing a heartwarming trench coat. The boy never once brings the tree anything. Not even water. In my ending, the tree is still giving. She’s just giving him a bill.