KidPages: Four Favorite Picture Books About Ghosts

If there’s one thing I hope is evident on this blog, it’s that I try to be very forthright with my book reviews. In fact, when it comes to picture books, it’s my policy not to even review books that I would not want to own myself. Because of that, this will never be a place to come if you’re looking for extensive roundups. My goal is not to pull together every single picture book I can find on a particular subject and present it to you, but rather, to curate a small group of books that I feel comfortable giving my hearty stamp of approval.
 
Today I want to share a few favorite ghost books with you. This doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of ghost picture books that are out there. There are, of course, many that we haven’t read, but of the ones we have read, these are some of our favorites.

1. Georgie by Robert Bright
The other books on this list are fairly new (published within the last ten years or so), but not this one. It’s been around since 1944, and now that it is no longer in print, it’s a true treasure. Luckily our library had a copy, but I’m thinking I’ll try to snag a used copy for us. It’s that fantastic.

Georgie lives in the attic of Mr. and Mrs. Whittaker’s house. He’s a very useful ghost to have around because every night he makes the loose board on the stairs give a creak and the parlor door give a little squeak, and then Mr. and Mrs. Whittaker know that it’s time for bed. But one day, Mr. Whittaker (being the good husband that he is) decides to tighten up the board on the stairs and oil the hinge of the door, and then they don’t creak or squeak anymore. Georgie is out of a job, and Mr. and Mrs. Whittaker no longer know when to go to bed and so suffer the consequences.

The illustrations are done in pen and ink which give them a detailed and well-defined look. The text doesn’t try to explain too much or get in the way of the illustrations, but the words that are there are quaint and sweet. (I love the part where Georgie is feeling frustrated, about not having anything to do, and it says, “That was a fine how-do-you-do.”)

This was our first Halloween season with Georgie, but I’ve noticed that there are more picture books in this series. I don’t know how they compare to the original (we’re waiting on one from the library), but if you’ve read any of them, I’d love to know how you liked them.

2. Leo: A Ghost Story by Mac Barnett, illus. Christian Robinson
With such a dynamic author/illustrator team, I had high (might I say, very high) hopes for this book, and they were not disappointed. Leo is a little ghost. He has lived by himself in a quiet house for many years. But one day, a family buys the house and moves in. Leo is a gracious host and brings in mint tea and honey toast for the family to enjoy while unpacking. Unfortunately, the family is anything but pleased to find a ghost residing in their house.

So Leo goes away. Eventually, he meets a little girl named Jane who immediately embraces Leo as her friend. Her parents are convinced he is just an imaginary friend, and Leo worries that’s how Jane thinks of him, too. Then one night, everything changes, and Leo and Jane’s friendship switches instantly from imaginary to real.

This is one of those rare books where the charm of the text matches the charm of the illustrations perfectly. The dialogue is candid and humorous. (One of my favorite exchanges happens right after Leo meets Jane. She wants to play Knights of the Round Table with him, and he asks, “Who is the king?” Jane replies, “I am! That’s why I’m wearing this crown on my head.” But . . . Jane isn’t actually wearing a crown on her head.) The illustrations use a limited color palette (blues and gray and black), and Leo is just an outline who takes on the color of whatever is around him.

Both text and illustrations have a timeless, classic quality to them. In fact, it reminds me a great deal of the first book I mentioned, Georgie, and also another one from my childhood, Gus Was a Friendly Ghost (a book I tried desperately to find this season and couldn’t, or I might have featured it today, too.) I have a feeling this book, although brand new this year, will be around for a long time.

3. Boo Cow by Patricia Baehr, illus. Margot Apple
Who doesn't love a good mystery? And what if it's combined with a ghost story? And what if the ghost is a cow? That just takes the cake, doesn't it?

When Mr. and Mrs. Noodleman park the moving truck in front of the old, dilapidated farm, they know they're in for a lot of work. But they get at it immediately and soon have a busy (if not yet, thriving) chicken farm (named Chicken Noodle Farm, which I adore). They are excited to start bringing in dozens of eggs every day and making some money, but day after day, they don't find any. Something seems a little suspicious, especially when one night they hear a thump and a creaaak and a clink-clunk and finally a long, low, supernatural Mooooooo!

They are convinced that this Boo Cow is the reason behind their lack of eggs. What kind of chickens would want to lay eggs with a ghost haunting their coop? Mr. and Mrs. Noodleman try all sorts of things to get rid of their unwanted visitor, but finally, as you probably have suspected by now, they get to the bottom of the missing eggs . . . and the culprit is not Boo Cow.

If the illustrations look familiar in this book, you probably recognize them from the Sheep in a Jeep series. They're the reason I was drawn to this book in the first place, but then the story won me over as well. It's not the same author as Sheep in a Jeep, so don't expect the same kind of limited, rhyming text. But if your kids can handle longer prose (probably ages 4 and up), I think you'll find this one to be a winner.

4. No Such Thing by Ella Bailey
I only just heard about this book myself a couple of weeks ago, but then I rushed to get my hands on a copy. I could just tell it was going to be exactly the kind of book I like. And I was right.

Strange things are happening at Georgia's house. There are mysterious drawings on the wall; a vase crashes to the floor; Georgia can't find any socks to wear. Some people might blame all of these unexplainable occurrences on ghosts . . . but not Georgia. She's too clever for that!

If I could only use one word to describe this book, it would be "subtle." The text rhymes, but I didn't even realize it until I was through the first three or four pages . . . and not because they were bad rhymes but because they just slipped off the tongue so effortlessly. The illustrations have a retro quality that is easy on the eyes. And then there are the ghosts, who you probably won't notice at first because they're so well-hidden (but despite what Georgia says, they're there).

I gave this book to Max to read on his own because I was curious to see when he would realize that there really were ghosts behind all of the mischief. After reading several pages, he stopped and made the observation: "He's the one who's been doing it all" while pointing to a little ghost hiding in a shirt that's hanging on the line to dry. I think that may have been the first one he spotted, but after that, he could suddenly see them everywhere. (Both Aaron and Max have been poring over the book this morning, trying to spot every single one.)

I loved this book on first sight, and I feel fairly confident in saying you won't need to read it more than once before you love it too.

What are YOUR favorite picture books about ghosts?

KidPages: Again! by Emily Gravett

It's been awhile since I've done any KidPages posts. I've been having a hard time just keeping up with my regular book reviews, which is why I've been slacking. I do share our favorites on Instagram though, so if you've been looking for more picture book recommendations, you can follow me there.

The parent/child bedtime struggle . . . we've all been there. The later it gets, the more quick-witted the kids seem to be (and, by default, the slower, tireder, and, in my case, crankier the parents are). Kids can think of a million reasons to stay up for just a few more minutes.

And Little Dragon is no different. (For the sake of this review, we will call him Cedric. There's nothing that explicitly says that's his name, but if you read the book, you'll see why it's a good choice.) The bedtime ritual starts out peacefully enough: he plays, eats some cookies and milk, brushes his teeth, takes a bath (this all occurs on the endpapers), and finally, settles down with his favorite book. His mother cheerfully reads it, and at the end of it, Cedric asks for it again.

A child asking to hear a favorite story again? It's a difficult thing to refuse. (I know. My kids tempt me every single night). Cedric's mom gives in. She reads it again. But you see where this book is going. And each repetition gets shorter and less comprehensive as fatigue and exhaustion set in. As often happens, the story is putting Cedric's mom to sleep, but not Cedric himself, who gets more and more animated (and obnoxious) the longer he's up.

Finally, Cedric's mom cannot resist sleep any longer (I plead guilty of falling asleep while reading to my kids, too). But Cedric won't give up. He jumps up and down on her chest screaming, "Again! Again! Again!" In an irrational moment, he blows a fiery hole through the very thing he wanted so much.

And that's the end of the story.

It's abrupt, but if your kids have reached the point of psychotic and irrational behavior, then bedtime often is. We parents can only be patient so long. Eventually, a line is crossed, and then it's over. Just like that.

Parents will like the abrupt ending because it's so true to life. And kids will like it because it's unexpected and funny. And that's the way the whole book is: a little bit for the adults, a little bit for the kids. The balance is just about perfect.

Also, the text is pretty genius. It's a combination of the words in Cedric's bedtime story and the ever-insistent (and more and more obnoxious) "Again!" With each repetition, Cedric's mom slightly alters the words of the bedtime story out of necessity (she's exhausted) and because she has an agenda (get Cedric to bed). The distinction between reality and fantasy slowly meld into one another until the bedtime story becomes Cedric's story. It's very clever.

I've loved Emily Gravett's illustrations for a long time (I think Blue Chameleon was the first book I read of hers). Because of the combination of pencil and watercolor, the pictures are detailed, but with soft, dreamy edged lines.

And one more final plug: It's short, so if you're looking for a quick bedtime read, this is it. (But you'll have to read it again and again and again . . .)

KidPages: The Fly by Petr Horacek

I think we're all familiar with those stories that feature creatures who, under any other circumstances, we'd shudder to get close to but who we're now rooting for in every possible way: Charlotte, a gray barn spider, in Charlotte's Web, the intelligent rats in Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, a little mouse with a lot of spunk in The Tale of Despereaux, to name a few.

But what if the story features an unsavory character, and then does nothing to change your opinion so that by the end of the book you're not sympathetic in the least but happily squash him with a satisfactory smack?

In The Fly, a common housefly narrates his plight: Here he is with "two googly eyes, six hairy legs, [and] two transparent wings," but for some reason, people don't like him. He spends most of the book dodging a boy with a flyswatter, while explaining why the life of a fly is hard and dangerous.

By the end of the book, we've seen him buzzing around a light (156 times), taking a nibble on fruit and cookies, and landing on a boy's forehead. All of the behaviors that we don't like in flies are showcased, front and center. Is it any wonder then that, at the end when he is pleading with the reader to please don't close the book, we can't help but take the two covers and smash them together as quickly as possible (we all know how fast flies can be . . . )? I can think of just one person (my sweet sister-in-law, bless her) who would finish the book by leaving the last page open so the fly could continue on his terrorizing way.

The magic of this book is that the fly involves the reader in his story. He tells the reader what he likes to do. He shares his frustrations and fears. And then he appeals to the reader's sense of justice and mercy. The story ends with the question, "Do you want to squash me?" hanging in the air. Every time you read it, the ending can be different (but so far, it's always the same with my kids: SLAM followed by maniacal laughter. I admit, they seem to get a sort of diabolical pleasure each time they squish the fly).

I am a long-time fan of Petr Horacek's illustrations, and this story is filled with the same bright colors and bold textures I've come to love in his work. Against this backdrop, the fly actually looks quite realistic. Perhaps even too realistic. It is this realism that makes it all the easier to snap the book shut at the end.

Like it or not, flies are an undeniable part of summer. My kids are constantly leaving the doors open, inviting the flies in (and letting Clark out). So we've been loving this book, which always sends my boys running for the fly swatter as soon as we're finished.

Many thanks to Candlewick Press for providing a copy of the book to review. All opinions are my own.

KidPages: Five Guilt-Free Picture Books for Mother's Day

Most of the picture book reviews I write are for, as you might expect, kids. That's not to say you won't enjoy them too, but I'm sharing them because, first and foremost, my kids liked them.

But today it's just the opposite. Sure, your children might like these books (my kids love them), but I'm sharing them for all you moms out there.

However, if you're looking for sugary-sweet books about the loving relationships between mothers and children, this is not the right list. Just head on over to the bookstore--those are the books that will have their own display table.

For the rest of you, here are five picture books that help me feel better about being a mom. They feature authentic scenarios and believable dialogue, and they bear an uncanny resemblance to real life . . . at least, my real life.

  
1. Harriet, You'll Drive Me Wild!, Mem Fox, illus. Marla Frazee
Confession: It's only spilled milk, but sometimes I lose my cool over spilled milk. If you do too, then you'll be able to relate to Harriet's mom.

Harriet is a pretty typical three-year-old (it never expressly says anywhere that she's three, but from her looks and the activities she's engaging in, she's three). She doesn't necessarily try to make messes, they just seem to follow her around. At breakfast, she turns upside down in her chair and knocks over her juice, which dribbles onto the dog. Later in the day, she paints a picture and doesn't wait for it to dry before she runs to show it to her mom--and consequently, paint runs all over the carpet.

You can tell that Harriet's mom starts out the day with the best of intentions. She doesn't like to yell, and so with each mess, she tries her hardest to stay calm and patient: "Harriet, my darling child . . ." But her patience gets a little thinner each time until finally, when Harriet rips open a feather pillow during nap time, she completely loses it. She yells and yells and yells.

And oh, how I can relate! I'm convinced that I begin the day with a prescribed amount of patience. Sometimes it can stretch until five o'clock, but if too many things drain it, or I don't get my hour or two of quiet time in the afternoon to replenish it, then I act very similarly to Harriet's mom.

I'll give you an example: Monday was fairly typical - Clark clung to my legs and whined, Bradley jerked his bowl off the table (one of those suction cup bowls--great in theory, horrible in practice) and spilled milk and cereal all over, the boys bickered and fought, etc. I felt little twinges of irritation but stayed calm. Then, during quiet time, I heard the unmistakable sound of shattering glass. I walked into Maxwell's room and found that he'd thrown a pillow at his light (apparently, he was trying to get a ladybug off of it), and it had broken into hundreds of shards and pieces. But still, I didn't lose it (mostly because I was just so incredibly grateful he hadn't gotten hurt). It wasn't until it was time to pick up Aaron from school and we were running just a couple of minutes late. I hurried the kids out to the van and found it in a complete state of chaos. Every carseat was unbuckled and turned over, the driver's seat was completely reclined, and the mirror was totally skiwampis. And then I lost it. I knew, of course, that Max and Bradley had been pretending it was a rocketship earlier in the day, but I had completely forgotten to go put it back in order. Now I was up against the clock, and I can't stand being late. Like Harriet's mom, my patience was gone.

The wonderful thing about this book though is that it shows the explosion but then the resolution. After Harriet's mom gets through yelling, she takes a deep breath, hugs Harriet tight, and says she's sorry. This is a good book for my kids to read because it reassures them that moms have hard days, too.

And on the drive over to school (we were late), I said I was sorry, too.

2. Llama, Llama, Red Pajama, Anna Dewdney
I've loved the Llama, Llama series for many years, but this one strikes a particular chord with me. Mama Llama puts Baby Llama to bed. She reads him a story, snuggles with him, and gives him a kiss on her way out. Then she begins to get some much-needed work done.

Within minutes, Baby Llama feels alone and wants the never-fail request: a drink. He calls down to Mama, she calls back that she'll be up soon. But of course "soon" for an adult is not the same as "soon" for a child, and pretty soon, Baby Llama is weeping and wailing, shrieking and screaming for his mama to run to him.

I've had this exact same experience dozens of times. My five-year-old, Maxwell, is the #1 culprit of the "ceaseless shrieking method." Invariably, he always employs it when I'm putting Clark to sleep or on the phone or otherwise occupied and unable to call back to him without further damage. My favorite is when he does it in the middle of the night, and his shrieks pierce the quiet stillness.

Mama Llama's response? With hands on her hips, she scolds, "Baby Llama, what a tizzy! Sometimes Mama's very busy." She admonishes him to be more patient and then tells him that she loves him. It ends on a very sweet note, and as with Harriet, You'll Drive Me Wild, I love the conflict and resolution that's portrayed.

(If you like this one, Llama, Llama, Mad at Mama is equally good. In the midst of a colossal tantrum in the store, Mama Llama firmly says, "Llama, llama, that's enough." (And she means it.))

3. Love You Forever, Robert Munsch, illus. Sheila McGraw
Are you surprised that this one is on the list? This is probably considered one of the "classic" Mother's Day picture books and falls into the sappy category (either that, or disturbingly creepy--you decide).

But I'm not including it for either of those reasons but because I am this mother. During the day, my kids sometimes drive me a little crazy (that picture of the little boy in the bathroom with toilet paper stretching across the floor, getting ready to chuck his mom's watch down the toilet? That is Clark to a T right now). But for all the craziness, I fiercely cling to my kids' childhoods. I resent their birthdays because they're growing up too fast.

And every night, without fail, I go into their dark bedrooms and kiss their soft cheeks and put my hand on their backs to feel their slowly rising breaths. If I wake up in the middle of the night, I have to go give all four of them a quick check before I can go back to sleep.

That's all fine and normal (right? I don't think I'm alone with wanting to see their peaceful sleeping faces before I go to bed), but I don't like to admit how much I'm already dreading the day when each of them leaves home and lives on his own. It's going to be hard to give them up, and I'm just a little worried I might be tempted to strap a ladder to my car and drive across town in the middle of the night. Luckily, we still have many years ahead of us, and I think the transition will be gradual enough that I'll be ready for it when it comes. But I'm just a little worried . . .

4. Betty Bunny Wants Everything, Michael B. Kaplan, illus. Stéphane Jorisch
I've talked about Betty Bunny before (in Betty Bunny Loves Chocolate Cake), but there I focused more on Betty Bunny herself and also her older brother, Bill. This time I want to talk about Betty Bunny's mother.

In this story, she takes her four children to the store and tells them that, as a special treat, they may each choose one toy. (Bill's response is priceless: "I'll just take the cash.") Betty Bunny is overcome by all of the amazing toys she sees, and she starts piling the cart with them. Even though Henry and Kate and Bill and their mom all try to stop her, she won't listen (which leads Bill to say, "Keep acting crazy. It makes the rest of us look good").

Finally Betty Bunny's mother says that if she can't decide on one toy, then she won't get any toys. She sticks to her guns, and picks up a screaming, crying Betty Bunny and marches out of the store. I can empathize with her, to be sure, but I'm also so inspired by her. She doesn't pay attention to the looks being thrown her way from the other customers. She knows this is something she has to nip in the bud, right then and there, or this will be a problem every time they go to the store. She remains unflustered when Betty Bunny calls her the "meanest mommy in the whole world," and she and Betty Bunny's dad come up with a wise and calm solution.

I love Betty Bunny's mother's quick discipline; I love the way she turns an unpleasant (even embarrassing) situation into a teaching moment; and I love the teamwork and unity between her and Betty Bunny's father. This book makes me feel better about being a mom--not because I'm always as calm and collected as this mom in the face of tantrums but because I believe that with practice, I can be.

5. The Seven Silly Eaters, Mary Ann Hoberman, illus. Marla Frazee
This might well be my favorite picture book of all time. It makes me a little nervous to make such a declaration, but I honestly can't think of another book that tops it. I like it so much that I bought it for myself, not for my kids (although I do let them look at it on occasion).

And the reason I love it so much? Well, I love the text (MaryAnn Hoberman's rhymes are gold), I love the illustrations (I've said before that Marla Frazee is my favorite illustrator), and I love the story.

But mostly, I love Mrs. Peters.

Here she is with her seven children, trying her hardest to please each one. She is like a short-order chef giving Peter his perfectly warm milk, Lucy her homemade lemonade, Jack his applesauce, Mac is smooth and creamy oatmeal, Mary Lou her soft and squishy bread, Flo her poached eggs, and Fran her fried eggs. And do they appreciate it? Not a bit.

And finally, finally, Mrs. Peters can't stand it anymore. She is overworked and overwhelmed. There are dishes in the sink, bread is spilling out of the oven, the counters are crowded with eggs and milk,  the cupboard doors are open, there's laundry (some of it folded, some in a basket) by the kitchen table, and Mrs. Peters is standing in the middle feeling like she has no control over anything.

I have been there.

I don't have seven children, but I have four, and sometimes I feel exactly like that picture. I look around me at my disaster of a house, and I feel like I'm drowning. There's no way for me to get on top of the mess and meet the constant flow of demands. I know what it feels like to be so overwhelmed, the only thing I can do is go to bed and hope that things will be better tomorrow.

And guess what? Just like when Mrs. Peters wakes up and finds that her children have not only remembered her birthday but made her a beautiful birthday cake, things often seem brighter in the morning for me, too.

Who is your favorite picture book mother? Who do you relate to? Who inspires you? Please share in the comments!

KidPages: How to Catch a Mouse by Philippa Leathers

A couple of years ago, I reviewed Philippa Leathers' The Black Rabbit. At the time, it was her only book, and I was so hopeful that it wouldn't be too long before she came out with another one.

Well, I'm thrilled to tell you that day has arrived (or almost--release date: April 28th).

This one stars a little orange cat named Clemmie (cute name, don't you think?). Clemmie is an excellent mouse catcher . . . she thinks. To date, she's never actually caught a mouse, nor, erm, ever actually seen one either. But she knows exactly what to look for: a whiskery, pointy nose, two round ears, and a long pink tail. And she's seen nothing that meets that description. It must be because all mice are afraid of her.

What she doesn't know is that the mouse (because, in fact, there is one) has been taking lessons right along with her and has found a way to disguise his incriminating body parts. But the disguise gives him a false sense of security, and Clemmie soon learns that two can play at this game . . .

As with The Black Rabbit, the reader is immediately armed with some important information that the main character doesn't know. (In The Black Rabbit, it was that the "rabbit" he was so afraid of was actually his shadow; in this one, it is that the mouse happens to be much closer than Clemmie thinks.) My kids loved finding and pointing to the mouse each time. They tried to get Clemmie to see her error, but she was too busy chasing down things that met the mouse description but that weren't actually mice.

The illustrations are charming. My favorite one shows Clemmie studying a book about mice. Unbeknownst to her, the mouse is standing right behind her, taking careful note of everything as well. Each picture is a careful balance between the sneaky and the obvious. It's one of those books that makes a great readaloud (which you would think all picture books should be, but trust me, they're not). And although it was great fun to read it to just my kids, it would also be an excellent choice for a large group story time.

I have to admit that I'm getting a little sick of picture books that end with two enemies becoming friends (the wolf and the lamb, the fox and the rabbit, the shark and the fish, etc.). Don't get me wrong, that's a great premise, but sometimes it's entirely unbelievable. So I love it that this book ends with no such resolution. It leaves you with a bit of a cliffhanger: the chase is still on, their relationship is still fraught with distrust, and you know there are still many exciting times ahead.

Philippa Leathers has created another winner, which leads me to say what I said in my review two years ago: "I'm so hopeful that she'll write and illustrate many, many more."

Many thanks to Candlewick Press for a hardback copy of this book to review. All opinions are my own.

KidPages: Three Picture Books for Spring

The grass is greening up, the daffodils are opening, the air is warm and fragrant . . . and our book basket is overflowing with spring picture books (a sure sign that spring is finally here!). Here are three of our favorites:

1. Hatch, Little Egg by Édouard Manceau

For me, this little book conveys the essence of spring: the wonder and anticipation, but also the surprise and unexpectedness of it all.

Told completely in dialogue, the animals are racing over to see the chick hatch out of the egg. They come on motorcycles and cars with their cameras slung around their necks. They can hardly wait. They're afraid they might miss it, but luckily they arrive just before the first crack appears. They gather around in giddy anticipation . . . but what comes out of that egg is not at all what they were expecting.

I love a picture book that looks like it's going along a predictable path and then veers off to something completely surprising, and this book does that very, very well. I also love that it addresses a fear that I know many children have--that of doing something new in front of an audience. Kids like to be able to test the water, explore new territory, and try new things without everyone watching and cheering them on. (Of course, some kids love an audience and the accompanying applause, but this book is for the kids who don't.)

I will admit that it took me a couple of times through the book to know how to read it. Like I said above, it's told solely in dialogue, but it's mainly just exclamatory phrases: "Ooooh! Here we go!" "Look! There is it!" "The egg is hatching! The egg is hatching!" etc. You don't really know who's saying what, and they're not very descriptive to the overall plot. But then I discovered that if I simply point to one of the animals as I'm saying the exclamation, it merges the text and pictures together, and I think having the story told through joyful cries really contributes to the overall feeling of excitement.

2. Jack's Garden by Henry Cole

Adaptations of The House That Jack Built are almost as common (and frequently as poorly done) as those of There Was an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly (why anyone thinks it will be funny if that old lady swallows a bell or a rose instead, I'll never know).

So I was, as you might guess, just a bit dubious of Jack's Garden, but I'm glad I gave it a chance (and I beg you to do the same).

It begins on an empty garden plot with Jack standing in the middle, shovel in hand. Behind him, there's a tree with clusters of white blossoms--our first indication that it's spring--and of course the words that tell us right away the kind of book we're getting into: "This is the garden that Jack planted."

But this is why I love this book: While the text follows the expanding pattern we're all familiar with, the illustrations take on a different role entirely--that of teacher. There's a large picture in the middle of the page, but around the edges, the reader is introduced to the various cast members that play a role in making a successful and authentic garden.

For example, when the text reads, "These are the seeds . . ." the borders are filled with little piles of seeds--lupines and phlox and hollyhock, all perfectly detailed so that you would be able to recognize them if you held a few of them in your hand. My favorite page (that goes with "This is the rain . . ." ) showcases the various kinds of clouds that might bring that much needed rain to your little seedlings.

There is just so much to look at and talk about. It feels almost like a reference manual--like something you could take out with you to your own garden and use to identify that mysterious wild flower that just popped up in the corner or that armored beetle creeping along a stem. But still, through it all, you've got the running anthem of "the garden that Jack planted," and it just ties up the whole thing into a great little package that's very interesting and engaging for kids.

3. Tap the Magic Tree by Christie Matheson

If you like Hervé Tullet's Press Here, you definitely need to check out Tap the Magic Tree. Told in a similar style, it invites the reader to perform various actions, but instead of colored dots, the creative medium is a tree. Touch each bud on the tree and soon it is covered in blossoms; shake the tree and the apples fall down; blow on the tree and the leaves fly away.

This book is as much about the four seasons as it is about spring. But it begins and ends in spring, so I figure if you can only choose one season for it to be about, spring's the best choice.

The first changes happen slowly, gradually. The opening page is just a bare brown tree. It looks dead, but there is life there, just waiting to come out. Tap here, and tap there, and green leaves begin to appear. Before you know it, the tree is full and beautiful once more.

I love it that the tree is referred to as magic because spring really does feel magical to me. Look one day, and the tree is empty; look the next, and it is somehow, miraculously, magically, covered in white blossoms. The changes happen slowly but then all in a rush. Buds stay tightly closed for days and then magically open up over night. It's such a thrilling season, and this book captures that feeling.

Also, can I just say how much I love interactive picture books that do not rely on flaps? Nothing to worry about tearing out of this book. Just enjoy.

What picture books have delighted you this spring?

KidPages: Home by Carson Ellis

When it comes to picture books, I think I'm definitely partial to ones with a clear story arc and memorable characters. When they're just centered around a particular theme without any cohesive plot, I tend to feel rather noncommittal; I can take it or leave it, but either way I won't remember much about it by the next day.

Home would be an exception to this rule.

It had me on the title page. And I would happily read it again and again and again.

You can probably already guess what it's about: each page shows a different home and its occupants . . . which, at first glance, might not sound all that interesting or even original. But keep an open mind. This book takes you to homes you've never thought about or known existed.

It begins with the homes you might expect . . . one in the country, one in the city. But it quickly veers off into the unexpected: the lair of thieves, the underwater home of Atlantians, the cozy cottage of a Moonian (with an enviable view of planet Earth). It somehow crosses over all cultures and time periods, showing homes of people, animals, and fictional characters. It pairs the most unlikely houses side by side (that of a Japanese businessman on the left page and the home of a Norse god on the right, for example).

It leaves some of the story up to the imagination of the reader: Who do you think lives here? And why do you think they live there? And it ends with the homes of the people most invested in the story--that of the author and the reader.

I believe this is the first picture book that Carson Ellis both wrote and illustrated, and the illustrations make the book. I believe they're done in watercolors, and it gives them a subtle and soft look that works very well with the quiet comfort of homes. I'm no judge of this, but it would not surprise me at all if this received some Caldecott recognition come 2016.

I've been trying to come up with why I like this book so much in spite of its not following the formula I traditionally like, and I think it comes down to this: it took something so basic and familiar but made me think about it in a new way.  People have been living in homes of one kind or another since time began. It doesn't matter where you live in the world, you have a place you go to at the end of the day and usually (hopefully), it is a place that brings you both peace and comfort. My own home is a refuge, a place for me to be with my family where I feel safe and loved. This book captured all of those feelings but added something new, too. It made me realize how vastly different homes can be while still providing those same feelings of happiness and security. It is a beautiful book and one our whole family enjoyed.

Many thanks to Candlewick Press for sending us a hardback copy of this book. I was compensated in no other way for this review, and all thoughts and opinions are my own.

A Book and Craft for Valentine's Day

Yesterday I put an envelope in the mail. It was addressed to my family in Colorado, and it contained three paper chains--one from Aaron, one from Maxwell, one from Bradley. They were inspired by the picture book, The Giant Hug, and as such, we like to call them Hug Chains.

To find out more about this book and craft (including what we wrote on the Hug Chain), check out my post on What Do We Do All Day.

Read the full post here.

What did your kids send their loved ones for`Valentine's Day?

KidPages: Hoot Owl, Master of Disguise by Sean Taylor, illus. Jean Jullien

A couple of weeks ago, two of my nephews came over to play. My kids were in heaven, and I hardly saw any of them during the five hours they were here. But during one of the rare lulls in their play, I asked if they wanted to hear Hoot Owl, Master of Disguise. They did. And then once it was over, they immediately wanted to hear it again. I obliged, and they would have been happy to hear it a third time if I hadn't had to rush off to an appointment. It was definitely a fast-favorite, and I think you'll soon see why.

When the story begins, it is the middle of the night, and Hoot Owl is ready for his lunch. He's not too worried about finding it. After all, he's Hoot Owl, Master of Disguise. But after several failed attempts (where he disguises himself as a carrot, sheep, and then a bird bath), he's beginning to lose steam. Luckily, he has one final plan, and it is sure to succeed!

Because it takes place at night, an inky black backdrop is used throughout. The illustrations are big and bold and outlined in thick, chunky lines, which makes them pop out of the dark pages. They're the type of pictures kids take an instant liking to and will want to try and draw for themselves.

Hoot Owl has a lot of personality. For one thing, he's pretty full of himself but in an amusing, rather than obnoxious, sort of way. He has this habit of comparing himself to other objects, and it's just hilarious (he's like "a wolf in the air" and his eyes "glitter like sardines").  He might be a little overly confident in his skills, but you love him for it.

The story is told through a lot of repetition, and my kids (as well as my nephews) immediately latched onto this. By the end, they were all wanting to chime in and say the lines with Hoot Owl. For this reason, this really makes a great read-aloud (whether at home or in the car or at the library).

The ending though is what really makes this book fantastic. I don't want to give it away, but let's just say that after trying to catch a rabbit, a sheep, and a pigeon, Hoot Owl finally turns to something so tried and true that probably almost every parent has given into its simplicity and availability in a busy, starving moment. Don't worry, even Hoot Owl, Master of Disguise, knows that sometimes it's the only thing that will satisfy.

Many thanks to Candlewick Press for a hardback copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own, and I was compensated in no other way for this review. I know five little boys who will gladly listen to it over and over again.

KidPages: Red Sled + Extension Activities

Remember long ago when I used to write up my lesson plans for Max's (and before that, Aaron's) preschool? I actually still have a few that I want to put up (my Olympics-themed lesson from last February was pretty awesome. But who cares about the Olympics in 2015? No one.), but no promises that it will ever happen.

You might wonder though why I haven't been writing up the lesson plans from this year's preschool. Well, it's a long story.

After Clark was born, I decided that I wasn't really interested in participating in another preschool co-op, at least not for this year. I think I was just a little burned out, and having a new baby gave me a great excuse. But guess what? June is not a good time to start registering for preschool. In fact, it's a little embarrassing because everyone's like, "Don't you know you should have registered back in January?" Plus, there are zero slots available.

In spite of putting Max on a couple of different waiting lists, August rolled around without any options. So when a friend told me about a preschool co-op in my neighborhood, I jumped at the chance to participate.

It is the most laid-back, relaxed preschool co-op I've been a part of. It meets once a week for ninety minutes. In some ways, this is great: planning is a snap and my turn only comes up about once every six weeks. But in other ways, I'm missing the structure and the extra time to run errands with only two kids during the week. Still, it's something, and we're enjoying it.

But anyway, I no longer have the long, extensive lesson plans of years past. However, I do have short little extension activities, and today I thought I'd share the most recent ones with you.

One of our favorite wintertime books is Red Sled by Lita Judge. In it, a little child props a red sled against the house at the end of a long day of sledding. A passing bear sees the sled and decides to take it for a joyride. Pretty soon a moose, rabbit, possum, (two) raccoons, porcupine, and mouse have all joined in on the wild ride. The next morning, the child can tell that something crazy (and wonderful) (and exciting) happened during the night.

It is mostly a wordless picture book (with just a few exclamatory remarks from the animals as they fly down the hill). There is little need for words because the animals' expressions capture it all: the joy, the thrill, and the fun. (I have two favorite illustrations--a closeup of the porcupine hanging onto the moose's antlers while his quills blow back in the breeze and one with a tiny silhouette of the entire group all towered one on top of the other.)

It's a pretty lively tale and one that I knew all the kids in our group would love.

After we read it, I taught them a little finger play called "Here's a Hill."

Here's a hill (tilt one arm to make a hill)
And here's a hill (tilt the other arm to make a hill)
All covered with snow (bring hands gently down like it's snowing)

I'll put on my coat (pretend to zip it up)
And jump on my sled (hold onto a pretend rope or jump)
And zoom! down the hill I will go! (clap hands and make hands slide down)

Then they made their own red sleds. I free-handed a sled to look like the one in the book (although my kids thought it looked more like a robot) and then gathered together all our red craft supplies: sequins, paint, foam letters, glitter glue, markers, crayons, yarn, and beads.

 

Then the kids filled in the white space with all things red, making it a red collage of sorts.

Finally, the title of the book, Red Sled, naturally lent itself to a rhyming game. I borrowed this game from my Snowmen at Work preschool lesson (and I originally got the idea from No Time For Flashcards). I already had all the sticks made, and I just added one more group of rhyming words to go with the -ed ending.

I passed out a stick to each child and then, one by one, I helped them figure out which jar to put their stick into. Most of them needed quite a bit of help. I narrowed it down to two choices: "Do you think "car" sounds more like "tar" or more like "Ted"? And then, if they needed a little more help, I would squeeze the words together: "Car-tar? Or car-ted?"

My four-year-old absolutely loved this game, and I need to just get it out and let him sort all the sticks by himself.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on Red Sled or other winter picture books. Please share!

KidPages: Two Newly Found Christmas Favorites

Besides our book-a-day Christmas countdown, we've checked out some seasonal books from the library (and, miracle of miracles, some of the books I reserved actually came in before Christmas!).

Here are two new (if you consider books published in 1993 and 1996 "new") favorites:

1. Harvey Slumfenburger's Christmas Present by John Burningham

Mr. Gumpy's Outing is a favorite around here, but I had no idea about this Christmas book by John Burningham until earlier this month. I'm so glad I heard about it because we liked it so much it will probably join our collection sometime in the future.

When the story begins, Santa is just returning home after a long night of delivering presents to boys and girls around the world. He tucks the reindeer into bed (one of them is feeling a little under the weather) and is just climbing in bed himself when he notices a lump in his bag. On examination, he discovers he failed to deliver a present--to one Harvey Slumfenburger (and if that's not a fun name to say, I don't know what is). Harvey Slumfenburger lives at the top of the Roly Poly Mountain. His parents are very poor . . . so poor, in fact, that the only present he ever receives on Christmas Day is from Santa Claus. And Santa forgot to deliver it!

Santa knows that even though his reindeer are already in bed and even though he himself is exhausted, he can't let Christmas Day come for Harvey Slumfenburger without a Christmas present waiting for him. And so, he sets out, and, with the help of a few kindhearted people, manages to make it just in time.

The story is told through engaging repetition, and, as Santa meets with one disaster after another, that repetition conveys a sense of urgency to the reader: Please let Santa get to Harvey Slumfenburger's house on time! Please don't let him wake up on Christmas morning and not find a present! Hurry Santa, hurry!

I wish this was the way Santa Claus was portrayed in every book: as someone who is kind, selfless, and willing to do whatever it takes to make it a merry Christmas for all children. If that was the case, I think my lukewarm feelings toward him would disappear.

2. The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey by Susan Wojchechowski, illus. P.J. Lynch

I've been hearing about this book for years. And I even had it checked out at one point but decided against reading it to my kids because it looked too long for them at the time.

But this year I checked it out again, and a couple of days ago we read it. It definitely wasn't too long anymore. In fact, my kids listened with rapt attention the entire time.

From the cover, you might assume that it's going to be about a kind and gentle carpenter who lovingly nurtures a little boy. But that's the Christmas miracle. Because when it begins, Jonathan Toomey is anything but kind, gentle, loving, and nurturing. In fact, most people in the village refer to him as Mr. Gloomey instead of Mr. Toomey because he is so gruff and grumpy.

But what the village doesn't know is that there's a reason for Jonathan Toomey's gruffness (as there almost always is). Several years before, Jonathan's wife and little baby son became ill and died. What is perceived as grouchiness is actually a mask to cover up the pain he is still feeling.

Enter the widow McDowell and her young son, Tommy. The widow commissions Jonathan to carve a nativity set to replace a lost family heirloom. Every few days, she and Tommy stop by to check on the progress. Eventually Tommy works up the courage to give Jonathan a few suggestions about the pieces he's carving ("my sheep looked happy," "my cow looked proud") and even asks if Jonathan will teach him how to carve.

As they spend more time together, Jonathan's walls begin to come down and his heart begins to soften. He allows himself to love (and be loved) again. As he carves the final two pieces (Mary and the Baby Jesus), he draws inspiration from the perfect place.

This is a sentimentally sweet story. If that's not your thing, you're not going to like it. But I happened to love it (and yes, I choked up at the end). The illustrations are gorgeous (I think my favorite page is the same one that's used for the cover) and tell the story almost as well as the words. Jonathan's transformation is gradual and believable.

My kids loved it too. There's no Santa Claus or reindeer or snow-packed action, but I think even they recognized that this is what Christmas is really about: love, giving, and the power of a Little Baby to heal our hearts and change our lives.

Tell me: what are the Christmas books you've discovered this year?

KidPages: God Bless Us, Every One! The Story Behind A Christmas Carol

Last December, I read a book called The Man Who Invented Christmas. It was a short biography of Charles Dickens and focused on the events that led to the writing of A Christmas Carol. (I highly recommend it if you'd like some good nonfiction reading for the holidays. After finishing it, I decided I definitely needed more Dickens in my life, and it's what motivated me to read Oliver Twist this year.)

As I read the first few pages of God Bless Us, Every One, I thought, This is the same book but in picture book format. Awesome.

It begins in 1843, at a time when Charles Dickens is facing severe financial difficulties: his most recent work isn't selling well, his wife is expecting another baby, and the debts accumulated from helping family members are piling up. In these desperate circumstances, he has the sudden inspiration to write a short Christmas story, one that will capture the essence of the Season. As he writes, he is unprepared for how this little tale effects him personally, leading him to say, "It took hold of my heart and taught me what I did not know . . . "

That's how the book begins, but unlike The Man Who Invented Christmas, it then launches into an imaginary dream where Dickens has his own Scrooge-like experience. Most of the book stays in this place, with Father Christmas showing Dickens how even the lowliest people (adults and children alike) keep the spirit of Christmas in their hearts.

I think it helps to know that the text of this book is based on The Mormon Tabernacle Choir's Christmas concert from last year. Actor John Rhy-Davies narrated (and played the part of Father Christmas), and the whole story was enacted on the Conference Center's vast stage with Dickens and Father Christmas watching everything from the air. A DVD of this portion of the concert is included with the book.

I really think this story worked as part of a large-scale performance, but I'm not sure I loved it in picture book format for the simple reason that I couldn't tell who its target audience was. If it was written with adults in mind, I would have preferred far more fact and far less fiction. But if it was written for kids, then it seemed quite a bit too long.

That said, I loved the illustrations--all warm and dusky and cozy. They convey the time period and the season and the holiday spirit really well. And I love the idea of introducing the story of A Christmas Carol to my children through events from Charles Dickens' own life. I haven't shown them the DVD yet, but I know that they will love seeing the story in that medium, and I think it will really help them grasp the book itself when we read it together next month as part of our Book Countdown to Christmas.

It has become a tradition for the Mormon Tabernacle Choir to turn the narrated portion of their Christmas concert into a picture book and release it the following year. I am completely on board with this tradition and hope it continues for many, many more years. It's great to see these wonderful Christmas stories (the candy bomber or "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day," for example) retold in picture book format. Plus, I love having a copy of the actual performance so that I can relive it (if I was there) or experience it second-hand (if I wasn't).

Many thanks to Shadow Mountain for a hardback copy of this book. All opinions are entirely my own.

A Halloween Craft (Candle Jars) and a Book

Halloween is not even close to my favorite holiday, but since having kids, I enjoy it much more than I used to. Ever since Aaron was born, we've planned our costumes around a theme (this year we're going as pirates), and I'm hoping my kids will humor me with this tradition for at least a couple more years.

Fall break was earlier this month, and since Mike couldn't take any time off work, we didn't have any really exciting plans.  But out of all my kids, Aaron is the one who just lives for crafts, so I knew if I had just one thing for us to make, he would consider it a successful break from school.

I found these Halloween lanterns at Red Ted Art and thought it would be a fairly simple craft. Plus, my kids love decorations, and, I'll admit, I do very little decorating for Halloween, so now they'll at least have one thing they can pull out every year.

If you're looking for a way to fill the hours before trick-or-treating tonight, you might give these Halloween candle jars a try:

What you'll need:

Glass jar (we used a couple of mason jars and an old olive jar
Orange, green, or white tissue paper
Mod podge
Foam brush
Black paper

First, tear all of the tissue paper into pieces--the more irregular, the better.

(The night before I wanted to make this, I went through all the supplies (all five of them) in my head to make sure we were good to go. However, the next morning when I went to get the tissue paper, it wasn't where I thought it was supposed to be. I could find some white and green, but no orange. I had no desire to run to the store with four kids in tow (these are the times when I wish my mom lived next door) just for tissue paper. In my search through the house, I found some orange crepe paper left over from a trunk-or-treat several years ago. So we used it instead. It didn't hold up to the glue quite as well as the tissue paper, but hey, it worked and saved me a trip to the store.)

Put down a layer of mod podge on the jar. Arrange the pieces of tissue paper on top (some overlap is good).

 

Go over all the tissue paper with another layer (or two) of mod podge. Aaron could do most of this on his own (but not without a big glue mess all over the table), but the other two needed quite a bit of help.

Cut out pictures or jack-o-lantern shapes for the front. For the silhouettes, I just printed them, and then we cut them out. For the jack-o-lantern, I freehanded it out of black cardstock.

 

Put the pictures where you want them and then mod podge over the top.

Let it all dry. Put a candle (or in our case, a tealight) in the bottom and enjoy the spooky light while reading a scary (or not-so-scary) book.

Like this one:

I reserved very few Halloween books at the library this year. I don't know why. I guess I just wasn't feeling it.

However, I did check out this new book by Kazuno Kohara. We love her other Halloween-esque book, Ghosts in the House, and The Midnight Library was delightful as well.

It's about a little librarian who works in a library that is only open at night. The story focuses on one night in particular when some of the patrons forget to use their library manners. The little librarian finds creative and kind ways to help them with their problems.

The story itself is fine and cute and all that, but it's the illustrations that make this book a real treat. A limited color palette (light orange, blue, and black) with the characters being outlined instead of colored in makes these pictures fun and different to look at. I seriously would like to frame four of them and put them up as Halloween decorations.

I hope all of you have a safe Halloween filled with yummy treats, awesome costumes, and fun neighborhood activities.

 

What are your Halloween plans for the day?