You’ve gotta hand it to Mo Willems for knowing how to bring his readers the unexpected. Although he’s arguably best known for his Pigeon books and Elephant and Piggie series, Willems departs from those familiar characters for a charming new story about frogs and baguettes, of all things.

This is the story of Nanette, a frog who is sent on an errand to retrieve a baguette from the bakery, complete with a narrator who speaks directly to her. She finds the baguette so warm and wonderful that she doesn’t succeed in bringing it home. Instead, she devours it on the way and is left guilt-ridden. The story is in rhyme, but those who fear stale, singsong couplets need not worry. Willems rhymes the “ette” sound all throughout (Nanette, baguette, fret, upset) in a pleasing way. His meter is spot-on, and never once does he force words in the name of rhyming. (He even manages to make clarinet fit seamlessly.)

The humor here is deliciously over-the-top; cue the delighted laughs of children as they watch Nanette devour the bread, knowing full well she shouldn’t. Willems renders the illustrations of the crime itself with lots of drama—loud, comic-style cartoons, replete with jagged, sharp lines, as well as onomatopoeia. (“KRACK!” goes the baguette as she chomps on it.) But there are also laugh-out-loud moments of dry humor, including the one where he manages to rhyme “Tibet.” (Nanette figures she’ll be in so much trouble that she should perhaps leave the country.) And the fact that Nanette loves bread and not Mr. Barnett’s pet fly is a moment of absurdity that could only come from the likes of Mo.

Willems created a cardboard community for Nanette’s setting—evidently, toilet paper rolls were the name of the game—which he then photographed. The title page spread shows Nanette’s neighborhood in all its paper glory. The story wraps up with a twist, one that eases Nanette’s shame.

Breaking bread with a frog (words I never expected to string together) is wildly funny when it comes from Mo. 

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

Marla Frazee, author and illustrator of the award-winning picture book The Boss Baby, delights readers anew with the release of The Bossier Baby. Boss Baby must now cope with being replaced by the arrival of a power-tripping new CEO, aka his little sister, who ruins his life while delighting the clueless “staff.”

Bossier Baby has restructured the organization and devised a new business model. Employees, parents and older siblings will empathize with the rigorous adjustment issues that a new CEO provides. Boss Baby has unceremoniously been demoted, and the Bossier Baby gets all the perks. The organic catering service (available 24/7), a personal limo and a full-time social media team.

Our hero, Boss Baby, is thrown into a cycle of stress, strain and acting out. But despite his fury and outrageous behaviors (stripping down and peeing on the neighbors’ flowers, for example), he is ignored. So, like any other American-blooded demoted employee, he gives up and sulks sullenly in the corner.

Now it is Bossier Baby’s time to shine. After all, she is CEO for a reason. With an honest ask for help, Bossier Baby woos Boss Baby back into the fold. The family’s business productivity numbers jump and all is well.

Two-time Caldecott Honor recipient Frazee blends cartoonish illustrations and fresh humor to carry the story. Even parents not toiling on Wall Street or in the corporate realm will enjoy this lighthearted take on sibling rivalry. 

Billie B. Little is the Founding Director of Discovery Center at Murfree Spring, a hands-on museum in Murfreesboro, Tennessee.

Outside his doghouse, it’s raining. Inside, things aren’t much cheerier, as Pug Man—who seriously overslept—faces a solitary day without breakfast, without coffee. The story begins exactly like a caffeine-deprived morning: few, tense words and muted colors. Then, like a toddler jumping on your bed at 4 a.m. on a Saturday, the story erupts with the arrival of a very colorful, over-enthusiastic and cheerful fairy. Animals, castles and yummy treats blast out of her shiny, yellow wand, filling Pug Man’s world with rhymes and cotton-candy pink skies. Pug Man’s grumpy day just got worse. Or did it?

Pug Man’s 3 Wishes is a fairy tale of sorts that will entertain readers of all ages. Kids will giggle at seeing Pug Man go through his morning routine, using the bathroom and staring blankly into the fridge. Little readers will have fun spotting the antics of two little mice who share Pug Man’s doghouse. Adults will be amused, and maybe a little self-conscious, to recognize themselves in his bleary morning mirror reflection. 

With minimal text, Sebastian Meschenmoser (Mr. Squirrel and the Moon) lets Pug Man’s expressions and actions carry the story. Several spreads have no text, nor do they need it. Meschenmoser’s detailed pencil drawings perfectly capture Pug Man’s mood, while simple backgrounds fill in the story.

In a world of fairy tales and dreams-come-true, Pug Man’s 3 Wishes is an entertaining, if slightly tongue-in-cheek, antidote. The book ends with a contented and simple message: The fluffy clouds and castles are nice, but sometimes all you need is a friend. And a cup of coffee. 

This article was originally published in the November 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

In this sweet and sincere story of facing fears, readers meet a young girl and an elderly man—both with anxieties to overcome.

Young Lizzie heads to the park with her mother. On their way in, the mother waves to an elderly man, spiffily dressed. He has a dog on a leash. Lizzie runs and plays—but freezes when she runs near the man’s dog. The man eases her worries by answering Lizzie’s questions (“Does she bite?”), and bit by bit Lizzie warms to the dog, named Cecile. When she pets Cecile on the head, something she never would have done prior to meeting the man in the park, he tells her it’s “a small thing, but big” to master a fear like that. 

Eventually, with her mother close by, Lizzie holds Cecile’s leash and walks her around the park. “All dogs are good if you give them a chance,” the man tells her. All the while, he reminds her of the fact that she is conquering monumental fears that may seem, on the surface, to be minor. Such is childhood after all, and author Tony Johnston is never patronizing about it. She is the omniscient narrator, watching in wonder and describing what she sees: “Hesitant at first, then springingly, oh springingly,” Lizzie walks the dog around the park for the first time. 

Illustrator Hadley Hooper, using a combination of relief printing and digital editing, brings the park and its visitors to life with warm greens, blues and rust colors. By giving the young girl a mustard plaid skirt and the man a mustard plaid jacket, they are immediately linked in the reader’s vision, two people destined to be friends. Never crowding a spread, Hooper lets the illustrations breathe, as if readers could jump in and take a walk with the trio. 

In the end, the man tells Lizzie that he was once “very afraid of children.” Whether or not he is kidding is up for debate, but either way, readers will enjoy his journey around the park with his best friend, Cecile—and his new friend, Lizzie.

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

This article was originally published in the November 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

BookPage Children's Top Pick, November 2016

As is the case for many of my generation, Ezra Jack Keats’ The Snowy Day is one of the first books I recall enjoying in my small West Virginia town, a glorious tale that will remain seared in my brain. At the time I simply loved the book and its red snow-suited hero, Peter, having no clue that this 1963 Caldecott Medal winner was groundbreaking, the first mainstream picture book to feature an African-American child.

A Poem for Peter highlights the fascinating story of the book and its creator, who was born 100 years ago in Brooklyn to Polish-Jewish immigrant parents, began painting store signs in third grade and had to forfeit art school scholarships when his father died the day before his high school graduation.

Not only is Keats’ story compelling, but creative use of text and illustrations bring his world marvelously to life (with the added bonus of two short essays at the end). Andrea Davis Pinkney writes in “collage verse” or “bio-poem,” seamlessly weaving the biographical details of Keats’ life with commentary often addressed to Peter himself, noting how he and Ezra “made a great team” and how: “He dared to open a door. / He awakened a wonderland. / He brought a world of white / suddenly alive with color.”

In similar fashion, illustrators Lou Fancher and Steve Johnson use collage and their own lively artwork to incorporate images from five of Keats’ books, including The Snowy Day. Peter appears on the very first page and makes what Pinkney calls “peek-a-boo” appearances throughout, including a touching scene of Peter and Keats holding hands under a tree on a snowy day. This unique approach serves not only to thoroughly engage young readers but to effortlessly demonstrate how real-life experiences morph into literary influences.

An exceedingly well-done homage, A Poem for Peter is a visual and verbal treat for longtime Keats fans, as well as an exciting introduction for a legion of today’s young readers.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Take a peek inside A Poem for Peter.

This article was originally published in the November 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Jon Klassen fans will rejoice at this final book in the Hat trilogy about two turtles and—you guessed it—a hat. In three parts, the book chronicles the turtles as they find the hat, watch the sunset (and think about the hat) and go to sleep (and dream of the hat).

In “Part One: Finding the Hat,” it’s clear that eventually a difficult choice must be made. “We found a hat,” the turtles say together, establishing their united front—but the tall white hat sits on the ground between them, foreshadowing a potential future rift. They agree the hat looks good on both of them, so the only fair decision is to leave the hat behind and forget it.

The unifying “we” vanishes in “Part Two: Watching the Sunset” as the turtles address each other. “What are you thinking about?” they ask each other. One turtle sneaks a glance at the hat.

In the turtle dream world of “Part Three: Going to Sleep,” the growing tension reaches its peak. But these aren’t the competitive strangers of Klassen’s first two Hat books. These turtles are buddies, and they have a chance for a different outcome.

With We Found a Hat, Klassen takes readers to the West, with brown, gray, orange and inky green desert tones tracking the time of day. As in I Want My Hat Back and the Caldecott-winning This Is Not My Hat, the wording is bold and limited on each page, making it easy to follow when read aloud. Klassen makes great use of the turtles’ eye expressions, conveying the complicated emotions of friendship as well as subtle humor. 

This is a heartwarming, wonderful conclusion.

This article was originally published in the October 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

It’s all fun and games till you and your mortal enemy have to strip down in a hot air balloon way up in the clouds.

As noted by the subtitle for A Voyage in the Clouds, this is the story of the first international flight via hot air balloon, fraught as it was with two bickering, older men from different parts of the world. It’s 1785, and Dr. John Jeffries, who puts up the money for the flight, and Jean-Pierre Blanchard, who provides the balloon, insist on flying together from France from England, though they don’t get along. Author Matthew Olshan plays up their lighthearted, though very real, bickering to great effect. An opening sequence in which Jeffries busts Blanchard for lining his vest with lead so that Jeffries will think the flight is too heavy for him is impishly fun. They even argue about who will climb out of the balloon first after it finally lands.

Things go from amusing to laugh-out-loud funny when the balloon loses gas and they have to empty it of any excess ballast—all the way down to their trousers and even their bladders. Their panic is palpable and entertaining, despite the loss of valuable items from the balloon, including a violin. Needless to say, neither man is particularly eager to be the first to step from the balloon upon landing. Best of all, they step out as two men who have shaken hands and see each other as equals.

This book marks the second time Olshan and Caldecott Medalist Sophie Blackall have paired up (the previous being 2013’s The Mighty Lalouche). Olshan’s closing author’s note fleshes out a bit more detail about this true story, indicating his primary source matter, but also clarifies the “liberties” he took with the story. Blackall uses speech balloons for some of the dialogue and occasionally goes from full-bleed color spreads, which elegantly capture the time period, to sepia-tone action, divided into small, briskly paced panels. The body language and facial expressions of the two men (and their companion dogs) are spot-on, adding much to the book’s high-flying humor.

This is a comedy of manners of the drollest, most charming sort. 

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

Knowing how to deal with life’s ups and particularly its downs can be a difficult life skill to learn. In Solutions for Cold Feet and Other Little Problems, Canadian author-illustrator Carey Sookocheff shows even the youngest of readers how to handle unexpected setbacks and how to have fun in the process. This picture book, its small size ideal for little hands and gift giving, comprises a series of interconnected vignettes featuring a girl and her occasionally mischievous yet loyal dog.

The first vignette, titled “Solutions for a Missing Shoe,” pairs charming illustrations of the girl trying to find her missing shoe with such simple text as “check in the closet” and “look under the bed.” Light humor comes into play when the girl discovers, while looking under the table, that her dog has chewed her missing shoe. Her final solution is to “wear a mismatched pair”—and a frown. But she can’t stay mad for long, especially when finding solutions for getting caught in the rain. Just when she thinks taking cover inside the library is the best solution, she notices her forlorn, wet pooch still outside.

Deceptively simple illustrations with digitally enhanced, acrylic paintings continue the nonverbal communication and affection between the girl and her pet dog as they work out more solutions involving melting ice cream cones, a boring day, a flyaway hat and cold feet. Together they depict how the best solutions come from teamwork, compromise and empathy. These are important lessons at any age.

While new generations are reading the graphic novel trilogy March and being inspired by the life of civil rights leader and Congressman John Lewis, Preaching to the Chickens gives younger readers their own introduction to this living legend.

Growing up in the 1940s on an Alabama farm, Lewis watched his sharecropper father plow behind a mule and his mother boil the family’s clothes clean in a big iron pot. Inspired by Lewis’ memoir Walking with the Wind, Jabari Asim describes how Lewis used his love of God and church to create his own spiritual kingdom in the family chicken yard as he watched over a flock of Rhode Island Reds, bantams and Dominiques: “John stretched his arms above his flock and let the words pour fourth. The chickens nodded and dipped their beaks as if they agreed. They swayed to the rhythm of his voice.”

Lewis learns many invaluable lessons while saving a favorite hen from being sold, rescuing another from a well and watching a seemingly drowned chick come back to life. Meanwhile, his brothers and sisters hear his “henhouse sermons” so often that they start calling him “Preacher.”

E.B. Lewis’ watercolors beautifully capture the dusty world of this poor Southern farm, young Lewis’ ebullience in both the church pew and chicken yard, and the unusual way he discovers the voice and moral compass he’ll put to such astounding use as an adult. Asim’s author’s note briefly describes Lewis’ achievements and how he became inspired to write this picture book.

This small tale of a very big life is a winner.

Little Sophia has a good friend in Mrs. Goldman. Mrs. Goldman knit baby Sophia her first hat, and she also knit her favorite one with kitten ears and matching mittens. Mrs. Goldman made a dinosaur sweater for her dog, Fifi, and she knit hats for all the neighbors, too—but not for herself. When she and Sophia walk Fifi, the only one whose keppie is freezing—and whose ears are turning red—is Mrs. Goldman.

So, although Sophia is not very good at knitting, she decides to surprise her friend with a handmade hat. She drops first stitch and then another, and finally when the hat is done, there are so many holes in it that it resembles a monster hat! Sophia can’t give such an unsightly cap to kind Mrs. Goldman. Luckily, she has an idea. Sophia’s one specialty is crafting pom-poms, a skill she learned from Mrs. Goldman. Maybe she can put her pom-pom expertise to good use. When the hat is finally finished, not only does it keep Mrs. Goldman’s keppie warm, but Mrs. Goldman loves it. Being able to do something for a dear friend is, indeed, a mitzvah.

Michelle Edwards’ gentle story, paired with G. Brian Karas’ lively illustrations, will delight anyone who has ever tried to make something special for a friend. The addition of a few Yiddish words and the joys of a multigenerational friendship give this story a special resonance, and the instructions for making pom-poms and a Sophia hat will have readers begging for yarn.

Billie B. Little is the Founding Director of Discovery Center at Murfree Spring, a hands-on museum in Murfreesboro, Tennessee.

A clever little mouse in New York City spends hours gazing through a telescope at the moon, carefully noting his observations. Fellow mice ignore his conclusions―that the moon is made of stone―and cling to their own beliefs that the moon is made of cheese. Thus begins one mouse’s quest to prove his comrades wrong.

Early on in Armstrong: The Adventurous Journey of a Mouse to the Moon, the little mouse is summoned to the bowels of the Smithsonian, where he’s encouraged by a wise old mouse, who readers may recognize as the hero of Torben Kulmann’s similarly inspired Lindbergh: The Tale of a Flying Mouse.

His latest book is a visual and literary feast, the story of how a savvy rodent designs and builds his own tiny spacecraft, beating humans in the space race by more than a decade. With a large format and at 128 pages, it’s a creative cross between a picture and a chapter book, perfect for read-alouds.

Kuhlmann’s illustrations are exquisite, filled with sepia tones and bright splashes of color, impeccable technical detail, dramatic land- and moonscapes, and plenty of excitement―a raging fire, federal agents with snarling dogs on the verge of devouring the furry hero and, of course, a glorious moonwalk. There’s a wealth of humor, too―the mouse secretly taking notes atop the light fixture in a university classroom, a spacesuit test in a goldfish bowl and an alarm clock fashioned into a space capsule.

There’s also a “Top Secret” conclusion about what the first human astronauts found on the moon, as well as a concluding short history of space travel. Kuhlmann has created a tale so wonderfully imagined tale that it practically seems true. 

A delightful book that feels like playing paper dolls with extremely artistic friends, Monday Is Wash Day gives us a snapshot of daily life for Annie and her family. In a time before front-loaders and delicate cycles, before dry-cleaners and steamers, Annie and her sister pitch in—helping their mother fetch the water and turn the wringer, pour the bluing and hang the clothes out to dry. Proud of their hard work, the sisters look forward to playtime.

First-time author MaryAnn Sundby shares her knowledge and enthusiasm for these simpler times. With a calm, descriptive and assured voice, Sundby’s storytelling underpins the “everything in its place” sentiment of the book. The sisters’ gentle teasing brings a comfortable depth to an uncluttered story, while their baby brother’s games add a playful tone.

While Monday Is Wash Day tells a straightforward story, Tessa Blackham’s illustrations are far from simplistic. Beautifully drawn, Blackham’s cut-paper characters gracefully inhabit her paint-and-paper collage world, where no detail is forgotten. With a grandfather clock and hanging wall-portrait silhouettes, the rotary phone and kitchen curtains, soft colors bring us into a house that immediately feels like a home. Most astonishing is the tactile depth and movement on each page. With skillful manipulation, Blackham turns stiff paper into well-worn rugs and floaty dresses, wrinkly jeans and draped tablecloths. Clothes drying on the line nearly flutter in the breeze.

This gentle read-aloud is perfect for multigenerational sharing, and is sure to elicit a few “when I was little” tales of your own. Monday Is Wash Day charmingly captures a memory that, while not necessarily our own, is familiar and cherished—a sentiment that transcends the machinery and trappings of our days.

This meditation on the dark comes from retired astronaut Chris Hadfield, with assistance from author and journalist Kate Fillion. Hadfield was once commander of the International Space Station and was the first Canadian to walk in space.

In the book, we see Hadfield as a boy. He dreams of becoming an astronaut but fears the dark. The dark, in fact, attracts aliens in his mind’s eye. The young Hadfield lives with his family on an island, and everyone gathers on the night of July 20, 1969, to see the moon landing in the one home with a television. Outer space, Hadfield realizes that night as he watches history unfold, is the “darkest dark ever.” This is a pivotal moment, one in which he realizes he must master his fears. The alien-like shadows might still be there, but he has changed, now fully grasping, as put so eloquently by the authors, “the power and mystery and velvety black beauty of the dark.”

In that dark can live dreams, the kind that help you realize who you want to become. And of course, in his dreams, the boy is an astronaut floating in space. In a closing author’s note from Hadfield, he brings home his point: The dark can be for dreams—and best of all, “morning is for making them come true.”

The Fan Brothers render most of the book in a realistic style, though there are elements of mystery and even horror-lite—particularly in the aliens in the shadows, the ones young Hadfield fears. Since the book strikes an overtly inspirational tone, the creepiness is refreshing when the aliens appear, the spreads taking a turn for the bizarre, the fantastical. The illustrators depict these aliens in the dark as small, almost furry creatures with pupil-less, glowing eyes. Look closely: Even the trees at night by the boy’s home have leafy ears and eerie, yellow eyes.

This is a contemplative tale for children who love to read about outer space—and certainly those for whom the dark brings terrors. 

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