It’s harder than it looks to craft an endearing tale of two kids and their adorable dog while subtly teaching beginning reading skills and spatial concepts. But in this colorful and lively collaboration, two award-winning creators manage it—just as easily as dachshund Rosie plays and runs all day.

The large-format picture book is divided into sections, following the daily life of two unnamed African-American children and their very, very long dog, Rosie. Mini chapters offer early readers lots of visual references for rhythm and word repetition. At the same time, the text contrasts opposites, such as lost and found, or good and bad.

Linda Davick’s bright, sparkling palette is the perfect complement to Cynthia Rylant’s sweet, assured text. In “Rosie In and Out,” we see Rosie eagerly begging to come inside, then desperately throwing herself at a window to be let out to chase a rabbit. Then readers are treated to a hilarious illustration of Rosie stuck in and out of her heart-emblazoned doghouse. 

We Love You, Rosie! is a joyful chronicle of childhood, family and the pleasure of sharing love with a pet. A perfect book for preschoolers and young readers alike, this simple but evocative celebration is bound to become a family favorite. 

Deborah Hopkinson lives near Portland, Oregon. Her most recent book for young readers is Steamboat School.

This article was originally published in the March 2017 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

BookPage Children’s Top Pick, March 2017

Triangle lives in a world of triangles. His home is a triangle-shaped mound of rock. The door to his home is triangle-shaped. All of the rocks around him are triangle-shaped, too—small, medium and big triangles. Triangle’s friend, Square, lives in a square-shaped rock with a square-shaped door and small, medium and big square-shaped rocks all around. Triangle heads that way one day to play “a sneaky trick” on his friend. Knowing Square is afraid of snakes, Triangle stands by his door and hisses. When Square figures out it’s Triangle, he chases him to his home—and gets stuck in Triangle’s doorway. (Remember that triangle-shaped door? A square on two legs can’t quite navigate that, can he?) But as stuck Square blocks the door, Triangle becomes scared. Turns out he’s afraid of the dark. “Now I have played a sneaky trick on you,” Square says, saying with glee that this was his plan all along. 

“But do you really believe him?” asks the narrator, deliciously, on the final page. 

This is funny stuff and, as to be expected from Mac Barnett and Jon Klassen, delightfully off-kilter. The bit where Square can’t get through Triangle’s door is slapstick physical comedy at its best, and the book’s entire premise taps into the sense of mischief, one-upping and questions of trust that occur on playgrounds daily. (On a more basic level, preschoolers learning shapes will be thrilled to have such a funny book on hand.)

As always with Klassen, so much is in the eyes, and the eyes of Triangle and Square go a long way in communicating abundant character. In a Q&A that accompanied the advance review copy, Klassen talks about how the very placement of Triangle’s eyes implies shiftiness, given that they are lower on his face. Square’s eye placement is right in the middle—more balanced, more dependable. But we readers have two more books ahead of us (this is the first in a planned trilogy), so luckily, we’ll learn a lot more about the characters’ shifty (or were they?) intentions.

Julie Danielson features authors and illustrators at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, a children’s literature blog.

This article was originally published in the March 2017 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

A Perfect Day opens with a warm sun—which would be the perfect start to most days, but especially for cat, whom we meet roaming through the flower bed. What could be more perfect? For dog, it’s a cool splash of water; for the birds, it’s a full feeder of seeds. It’s even shaping up to be a great day for squirrel, when he finds a corncob on the grass . . . until . . . enter Bear.

Bear’s just looking for his own perfect day, and in a delightfully cumulative fashion, he ends up enjoying the corncob, birdseed, cool water and a roll in the flowers—dashing everyone else’s perfect day.

Great pacing sets the tone for a charming tale of varying perspectives, both textually and visually, What is perfect for one creature is not the same for all, especially in the natural world. Slightly reminiscent of Kevin Henkes’ A Good Day, Lane Smith’s text is paired seamlessly with vibrant illustrations rendered in a warm, spring-toned palette. Visible paint strokes add dimension and personality to Smith’s animals, a technique that is especially effective at displaying the exuberance of the bear on his perfect day.

This is a gentle, joyous picture book for storytime, one-on-one reading or any perfect day. It’s another coup by Smith, a two-time Caldecott Honoree.

Sharon Verbeten is a freelance writer and children’s librarian in De Pere, Wisconsin.

Tony, written by the late poet Ed Galing and illustrated by Caldecott Medalist Erin E. Stead, is a love letter to a horse, told from the point of view of someone who once saw the horse (of the book’s title) every morning—and greatly admired him. It’s a whisper of a book, affectionate and intimate, with its small trim size, spare text and soft-focus drawings.

Tony, the speaker recalls, used to head out every morning, before the sun rose, pulling a milk wagon for a man named Tom Jones. Readers never meet the “I” of the poem, who looked forward to Tony’s visit and greeted him, patting him with “gentle arms” and watching his head bow and eyes glow in the morning light. Tom refers to this person as “sir,” but that’s about all we know. This is as it should be, since Tony is the focus here, the beautiful horse depicted with Stead’s delicate but sure lines. The palette consists of merely the colors seen on the book’s cover—pencil grey, soft green and occasional moments of warm, glorious yellows. This yellow dominates the final spread, as morning arrives just as Tony and Tom Jones leave. (Aspiring illustrators, take note: This book could be a case study in how you strike a tone successfully and consistently in a picture book.)

A vellum, text-only title page opens the book, and through it we see the horse on the next page. It’s as if we are seeing him through the fog of early morning or the speaker’s own distant memory. This technique also allows both the title page and the story’s first page to serve as one; on the page with the horse, there is merely “Tony,” the poem’s first word. It’s a striking and effective way to open a poem that is essentially a memory, given that the entire poem is in past tense.

This is a book that pays loving tribute to the deep connection people can have with animals, which children surely understand. Just like the poem’s speaker, you won’t soon forget Tony.

Julie Danielson features authors and illustrators at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, a children’s literature blog.

It’s hard to create a bedtime picture book and have it stand out on bookshelves, but Nina Laden and Melissa Castrillon have done just that in If I Had a Little Dream, a soothing lullaby of a book.

A child with pony-tailed hair ponders the world and its wonders in rhyming verses. “If I had a little land,” she opens, “I would name it There. There would be my home, be it stormy be it fair.” She imagines a tiny house, which she would name Love. She’d name her garden Whole. She wonders about nature (ponds, dogs, cats), things (books, chairs, bicycles, boats) and family, including a brother and sister. All of her wishes involve camaraderie with others: If she had a table, she’d share her food. If she had a chair, she’d rest up for her next visit with friends. If she had a bicycle, she’d visit the forest and all its animals. Laden’s verses roll right off the tongue with their pleasing rhythms. The world the girl imagines is sweet and welcoming, but never cloying.

This is the picture book debut of British illustrator Castrillon. Her pencil illustrations are digitally colored in cool blues, reds and oranges. Some spreads include spot illustrations on one side, facing a larger illustration of the girl and her wish. Many round spot illustrations are surrounded by Castrillon’s elaborate borders, involving animals and leaves. Several full-bleed, double-page spreads wow with her spot-on composition and fluid lines. There’s a lot to pore over in the girl’s inviting, imaginative world.

Best of all is the final illustration, showing the girl on her bed being held by a woman—a mother, we can assume—in a loving embrace. “If I had a little dream,” Laden writes, “I would name it You. You would make life magical, where wishes do come true.” Is the girl without parents? Without a home? Maybe this is her real mother after all, and we’ve been privy to the girl’s dreams at night. Either way, it’s a beautiful moment of a parent-child bond.

This is a dreamy book, in more ways than one.

Julie Danielson features authors and illustrators at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, a children’s literature blog.

It’s all fun and games until Viking-helmeted barbarians wreak havoc on your living room.

That’s precisely what happens in this story, told from the point of view of a young boy who refuses to clean his room. It’s dirty beyond just clothes strewn on the ground. There’s overturned pizza on the carpet and a cereal bowl that appears as if it’s been there for days. “Mom always makes a big deal out of little things,” he says. “What was the worst that could happen?”

The boy is almost delighted to see ants, flies and mice as a result of his filth. Even when a barbarian named Vlad appear—the titular line is quoted by the boy’s beleaguered mother, who seems to be in charge of the housework—and demands “an entire cupcake,” the boy think it’s cute. Then other barbarians show, taking over the entire home, even the garage. “There was no more denying it: we had an infestation of barbarians. And I didn’t think they were so cute anymore.”

Things start to get annoying for the boy—the barbarians go so far as to pick the marshmallows out of his cereal one day—and nothing (traps, scare-barians, exterminators) seems to slow down the unwelcome house guests. The boy figures his only solution—you guessed it—is to clean his room. Ultimately, this is a message book about Listening to Your Mother, after all, but that message is conveyed with humor and a dose of hyperbole that will make a lot of young readers giggle.

You can tell Mark Fearing had a lot of fun illustrating this one: The endpapers alone, featuring the creative mess on the boy’s bedroom floor (the final endpapers at least include a trash bag), are entertaining. He skips threatening and goes straight to goofy with his hairy, mostly bearded, oversize barbarians, one of them even smitten with mother’s makeup and caught applying lipstick in the bathroom. The final spread leaves readers wondering if a sequel will follow.

A fun read. No messin’ around.

Julie Danielson features authors and illustrators at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, a children’s literature blog.