The breeding habits of hares and the numerical sequencing of a 13th-century mathematician are not the usual substance of children’s books, but British author-illustrator Emily Gravett ties the two together masterfully in The Rabbit Problem.

The tale begins in January with Lonely Rabbit and a hand-lettered invitation to join him in friendship in Fibonacci’s Field. A female rabbit named Chalk takes him up on the offer. It’s not long before the two are the proud parents of Alfalfa and Angora. Rabbits mature quickly, however, and by the end of March, their new offspring are pronounced “All grown up.” Two pairs become three. By the month of May, the field boasts five pairs and counting. Rain, heat, famine and glut—there isn’t anything that the ever-growing rabbit population doesn’t encounter. Each page brings mounting excitement until a climactic end draws the story to a paper-popping surprise.

Cleverly constructed with each two-page spread displayed as a month-by-month calendar, The Rabbit Problem delights with a host of paper enhancements including a pop-up baby announcement, carrot cookbook and a local newspaper. Multimedia illustrations incorporate crayon, pencil, watercolor, folded paper and a knitted bunny hoodie. The book is packed with so many “extras” that readers will happily return again and again to re-examine the minute illustrative detail and notations on each calendar page. Young readers will find the story to be a visual feast, and adults will appreciate the subtle humor often aimed at the travails of child rearing.

Look carefully at the illustrations and you will see that The Rabbit Problem offers a solution to Fibonacci’s age-old puzzle. However, one need not understand the complexity of mathematical musings, or even the details of rabbit reproduction, to realize that one rabbit plus one rabbit equals a whole lot of fun.

Anthony Browne turns his prodigious talents to a clever retelling of the Goldilocks tale in his latest picture book, Me and You. This is no fractured story, though—it’s a full reimagining of Goldilocks from an urban point of view. Browne’s work always begs to be read slowly and the careful reader or lap-listener will be rewarded for patience.

The amusing details start on the first page—“This is our house.” Of course the address of the house is number 3 (for the three bears) and alert readers will spy a little wolf sneaking into the left corner of the page. Surrealism is Browne’s stock in trade and even the first page has hints of things to come: a ball in the backyard seems suspended in midair and what appear to be trees behind the house are really smokestacks and apartment buildings. Turn the page and the sunny yellow house is replaced with another house; this time all color is drained from the four inset illustrations except a child’s golden bangs. Despite the sepia tones and grim urban surroundings, the reader knows who the child must be in this new narrative: none other than Goldilocks, but in this version of the story she is wearing jeans and a hooded sweatshirt.

The separate stories of Goldilocks and the three bears unfold side by side on each two-page spread of the book, with the muted tones of Goldilocks’ world in stark contrast to the colorfully bright environment and warm family life of the bears.

Reading new versions of old nursery stories is always fun for a beginning reader, and Me and You is especially satisfying with all the visual elements to be pored over. New revelations will be noticed each time, from the foreshadowing on the cover to the sly reappearance of the wolf. For older readers and adults sharing the story, Browne’s two-sided retelling adds a powerful new edge to this familiar tale.

In the latest picture book by Japanese author-illustrator Komako Sakai, a young rabbit and his mother share an all-too-common experience. The rabbit boy, testing his independence, exclaims, “I AM SO MAD AT YOU!” as his mother sleeps in late on a Saturday morning.

Unable to rouse her, he begins a litany of complaints. She’s always demanding “hurry up—hurry up—hurry up,” but then makes him wait while talking to a friend; she’s always yelling for no good reason; and she forgets to wash his clothes, forcing him to wear the same pair of socks he wore yesterday. His mother only responds by drawing the covers up over her face.

She awakens, however, when her son threatens to leave and closes the door behind him. The following two wordless pages prove that this tender book is as much for parents as for their children. As the mother rabbit sits up in bed and looks toward the closed door, young readers will note that she looks sad, but adult readers will know that there’s some regret and guilt mixed in with the sullenness. Yet happiness and forgiveness prevail when the boy quickly returns and discovers that his mother has missed him.

On light blue backgrounds with a subdued palette and textured brush strokes, Sakai creates a beautifully quiet atmosphere, much as she did in her acclaimed earlier book, The Snow Day. But in Mad at Mommy, she also reveals the range of emotions in the parent-child relationship. Child readers will understand the admonishment the rabbit boy feels as a finger from above points at his unfinished dinner and a menacing hand pulls him to walk faster. Adults will understand the mother’s frustration as a clueless son lets water, soap bubbles and toys overflow from the bathroom sink.

Readers of all ages will appreciate the final page—a clothesline with clean socks—and know that mother and son are at peace, for now.

Luckily, Angela Leeper’s twin six-year-old daughters are only occasionally mad at their mommy.

“I’ll call you Dust Devil, and from now on we’ll ride together. I reckon I’ve finally found the horse that can carry me.”

So declares Swamp Angel, the wildest wildcat and most wonderful woodswoman in all of Tennessee. Well, actually, Swamp Angel has moved on since we saw her last, to magnificent Montana, Big Sky country, a place grand enough for Swamp Angel’s size and energy. It is there, while wrestling a dust storm, that she finds Dust Devil, her horse and sidekick.

And just in time. Because before she can croon a cowboy ballad, Swamp Angel must face the notorious Backward Bart (half rattlesnake, half badger and half mad hornet) and his gang of Flying Desperados.

Anne Isaacs and Paul Zelinsky, who teamed up to create the Caldecott Honor book Swamp Angel, have created a fabulous original folktale in this long-awaited sequel. Isaacs’s rollicking prose is perfectly matched with Zelinsky’s humorous, accomplished art.

Backward Bart, the bad guy in this tall tale, is so big his hands are the size of shovels, and his varmints are so ornery no self-respecting horse will carry them. So, naturally, they ride mosquitoes. And as everyone knows, mosquitoes in Montana are monsters. Why, “A Montana mosquito can carry a heavy suitcase and two watermelons on each wing without sweating.” What’s worse, their stingers are as long as swords.

Swamp Angel is up for the challenge. But, as Sheriff Napalot informs her, the law says that only a man can be deputized to join the posse to hunt down an outlaw. Luckily, there’s no law that says a woman can’t round up a mosquito! So Swamp Angel and Dust Devil set off on a mission to outride and outsmart Bart’s mosquitoes—and their riders.

Dust Devil is a big and spectacular in every way. And it’s sure to garner a lot of buzz (pun intended). Even better, Dust Devil will delight boys and girls whether they’re sitting around the campfire, or curled up in their bedrolls for one last story after a hard day on the trail.

Siblings can be a pain, particularly younger ones. Ask any older child what they find irksome about their brother or sister and they will undoubtedly rattle off a litany of complaints.

Flora is no exception. Though the latest accident with spilled paints is clearly her younger brother Crispin’s fault, responsibility falls to Flora. Exasperated by the mess, and in spite of the day’s blustery weather, her mother sends Flora outside. Of course, she must take Crispin with her. Flora is not worried about the wind’s gusts. She has her “super-special heavy-duty red boots” to protect her. Flora taunts the wind and even offers up her brother, who is clad in ordinary boots. The wind accepts the challenge and suddenly Crispin is aloft.

The look of fear on Crispin’s face prompts her to action and quickly Flora kicks off her own sturdy red anchors and joins him in the sky. Grabbing his hand, Flora soon discovers that flying through the air is rather “comfortable.” Before long Flora and her brother are making new acquaintances, a dragonfly, a sparrow, a rainbow, even the moon. Each offers a new home for her brother, and a solution to her troubles, but suddenly Flora is not so sure. She repeatedly declares, “He’s my brother and I’m taking him home,” but ultimately, whether she receives safe passage home is up to the wind; Flora must answer a difficult question and decide her brother’s fate.

Known for her National Book Award winning tale, The Penderwicks, author Jeanne Birdsall expertly captures a sense of place in her inaugural picture book, Flora’s Very Windy Day. Calling on a classic theme of children’s literature, Birdsall personifies the wind and evokes its movement through alliterative phrasing: “swirled and swooped,” “whizzed and walloped.” Matt Phelan’s gentle watercolor and ink illustrations echo the sense of motion and capture the season with dazzling red and orange leaves drifting across the page.

Broadly appealing, Flora’s Very Windy Day, will engage the imagination of those who have ever wondered what it would be like to drift away with the clouds, or like Flora, have the wind offer to whisk away all your troubles. A perfect pairing of whimsy and realistic conflict, this book is sure to become a new favorite.

The first lines of this clever book say it all: "From the moment the baby arrived, it was obvious that he was the boss. He put Mom and Dad on a round-the-clock schedule, with no time off. And then he set up his office right smack-dab in the middle of the house."

Wearing a suit and tie, this hard-nosed boss baby has three strands of hair and rules with an iron fist from his bouncy seat. With his multitude of expressions, he looks like a fuming, tantruming, smirking and bellowing Donald Trump.

Nonetheless, his adoring young parents desperately try to please him, despite the fact that "He conducted meetings. Lots and lots of meetings, many in the middle of the night."

Award-winning author and illustrator Marla Frazee obviously knows and loves babies—she also penned Walk On: A Guide for Babies of All Ages and illustrated a multitude of other books, including The Seven Silly Eaters and the Clementine chapter books. If you haven't already, put her in your "authors to watch" file, because every one of her books overflows with heart and humor, while the characters she illustrates are full of energy, honesty and soul.

Frazee’s latest creation, The Boss Baby, is the perfect book for any household with a new baby or one on the way, because every word and illustration is spot on. With this book in hand, I recently met my beautiful one-month-old great-niece for the first time, and our family repeatedly referred to The Boss Baby’s many droll lines. Although, for the record, I must say that my great-niece is a much kinder boss than the little fellow in this book!

You know the story: Chicken Little and her rhyming cast of friends run pell-mell through the woods, convinced that the sky is falling. Well, think again.

Our story begins with an egg—a very BIG egg. Out of that egg emerges an enormous chick. The other barnyard chickens are perplexed. “What is it?” they cry. The smallest chicken declares it an elephant, and the fun begins.

As in the traditional tale, an acorn drops from a tree and the birds take off in a panic. In Keith Graves’ ridiculously comical retelling, however, rain surely means “the sky is leaking” and a chill wind indicates that “someone has put the world in a refrigerator.” When a fox comes calling, the larger-than-life chicken must save the day with cleverness, kindness and bravery.

Young children will delight in this zany rendition, in which humorous dialogue is enhanced by the opportunity for adult readers to add a chorus of chicken squawks. Pencil line drawings with muted colors make an exception for the bright yellow main character who makes a bold statement throughout the tale.

Like all fables, Chicken Big is at its best when the moral emerges. Regardless of our appearance, we all long to be accepted, and readers will be touched that Chicken Big finds a flock of friends willing to make room for him in the coop.

While the hen, horse, goose, dog and other animals on the farm are quick to cluck, neigh, hiss and woof, the ladybug never says a word as she silently goes about her business. In the charming new picture book What the Ladybug Heard, the ladybug’s demeanor changes when she overhears two robbers’ plan to steal the farmer’s fine prize cow. Julia Donaldson’s rhythmic verse, perfect for story times, describes the ladybug’s humorous counter plan to foil the robbers. With the help of her barnyard friends, the diminutive heroine saves the cow by leading the robbers away from its shed and right into the duck’s pond. After a round of cheers, the ladybug returns to her typically reticent behavior.

Lydia Monks’ jovial and vibrant collage illustrations, rendered in acrylic paints, colored pencil and patterned fabrics, lend many funny flourishes to the story, from the robbers’ coffee-stained map of the farm to their slapstick stomp through manure. Children will also delight in comparing the first and last double-page spreads of the farm, which offer a before-and-after bird’s-eye perspective. They can follow the path the robbers took (leaving a trampled garden and dirty footprints along the way) and imagine where the barnyard animals hid as they conducted their parts of the sabotage. Although the little ladybug doesn’t appear in these larger illustrations, young readers will still feel her strong, quiet presence. What the Ladybug Heard is an excellent pairing of story and pictures and a reminder that even the smallest and least assuming among us can use her unique skills to save the day.

In The Village Garage, author/illustrator G. Brian Karas depicts an often overlooked but integral part of every community. A boy and his dog follow a diverse work crew around town, beginning in spring as they clean up debris from winter storms. Summer, their busiest season, has potholes to be patched and bridges and phone lines to be mended after a thunderstorm. Autumn is all about gathering leaves. (“And they fall. EVERYWHERE.”) Winter brings a little time to relax and play a card game until a snowstorm moves in, and then it’s off to plow the roads.

Karas’ energetic gouache and acrylic paintings with pencil lend humor to the hard-working crew, from the “accidental” spraying during a truck wash to the appearance of the boss’ signature cowboy hat on a snowman. Young readers will delight in the range of machines represented—wood chipper, steamroller, backhoe, snow plow, road striping machine, elephant truck (“That’s what they call the big machine that sucks up the leaves.”) and more—all in vibrant yellows, oranges and reds.

Karas puts a new spin on the seasonal picture book with this entertaining and original title. Children will find a diligent crew that works together (and plays together when time allows) to help the village run more smoothly. And they get to do it all on those cool trucks, too!

Fans of Mo Willems’ best-selling, laugh-out-loud Pigeon and Knuffle Bunny books may be surprised by the quiet tone of his new picture book, City Dog, Country Frog, in which a dog and a frog befriend one another. Their relationship is sweet and heartfelt, much like that of Arnold Lobel’s beloved Frog and Toad series, without any of Frog and Toad’s misunderstandings.

The duo meets in spring, on City Dog’s “first day in the country.” They romp and explore exuberantly, basking in each other’s company. When summer arrives, City Dog teaches Frog some of his favorite games, which include “sniffing and fetching and barking.” By fall, however, Frog is too tired to play, and come winter, he is gone, leaving City Dog lonely and bereft over the loss of his friend. The next spring, City Dog finds a new companion (Country Chipmunk), but he never forgets dear Frog.

In a beautifully understated way, City Dog, Country Frog tackles the essential issues of friendship, change, loss and death. It’s also the sort of book that can be absorbed at many levels. Some children will simply enjoy the surface-level story, while others might be ready for more profound discussions suggested by the tale.

While Willems’ text is appropriately spare, Jon J Muth’s watercolor illustrations are gorgeous, showing the changing soft palette of each successive season—from the brilliant greens of spring and summer to the soft purple, blue and yellow tones of a beautiful winter day. Muth’s renditions of Dog and Frog are cute but never trite, and he paints these animals with a wide range of heartfelt expressions.

Writing and illustrating such a lovely, simple, yet meaningful book is no easy feat, and Muth and Willems have once again proven themselves masters.

“There are many kinds of quiet,” as author Deborah Underwood and illustrator Renata Liwska reveal in their marvelous new title, The Quiet Book. There is “Don’t scare the robin quiet” and “Best friends don’t need to talk quiet,” as well as more melancholy variations like “Last one to get picked up from school quiet.” Each “quiet” is accompanied by an illustration that expands upon its meaning, such as “First look at your new hairstyle quiet,” in which a young porcupine’s unfortunate haircut first stuns him into silence, then on the next page sends him running to his mother—who implores him to be “sleeping sister quiet” as a cradle rocks in the foreground.

This progression of “quiets,” as it turns out, tells the simple story of a day in the life of several young characters, including a bear, a bunny and a moose (who is not quite successful at “hide and seek quiet”). Liwska’s deceptively simple illustrations give these little ones a friendly, furry texture and oodles of charm, without ever straying from a muted palette of soft and soothing earth tones. From “First one awake quiet,” which shows a bunny doing some morning stretches, to “Sound asleep quiet,” with the same bunny now curled up in bed with an unusual visitor, Liwska’s scenes illuminate Underwood’s spare and comfortingly repetitive text—perfect for a book that will no doubt engender many “Looking at the pictures quiet” moments for its young readers.

While young people might recognize the name of Marie Curie, the stories of many other women who pursued scientific research throughout history remain unknown. In Summer Birds: The Butterflies of Maria Merian, Margarita Engle introduces young readers to the fascinating figure of Maria Merian, a 17th-century naturalist and illustrator who advanced knowledge about butterflies, moths and other insects.

With its clear, lyrical text and charming, richly colored artwork by Julie Paschkis, Summer Birds focuses on Merian’s efforts to capture insects (secretly so that she wouldn’t be accused of witchcraft) to study them.

Engle sets the stage by telling readers that “summer birds” was a medieval term for butterflies and moths. In the 1600s, people thought these creatures were very mysterious—appearing as they do in warm weather, but disappearing again at the end of summer. In fact, some people thought these insects came from the mud, as if by magic, and might be evil.

From the time she was a young teen, though, the German-born Merian set out to study and record the life cycle of butterflies and other insects, helping to disprove the notion of “spontaneous generation” from mud through her research.

With her botanical illustrations, she chronicled the details of the insects’ life cycle, being careful, for instance, to record which leaves certain caterpillars ate.

Through Merian’s reflections on her future dreams, readers get a sense of where her pursuits eventually will take her: “I will be free to travel to faraway lands, painting all sorts of rare summer birds and flowers. .  . Someday I will put my paintings into a book. Then everyone will know the truth about small animals that change their forms.”

Summer Birds includes a historical note about Merian’s life and career. She traveled to South America to pursue her studies and published books about the life cycles of flowers and insects.

Children are always fascinated by the magic of butterflies and moths emerging from cocoons. While it stands on its own as a lovely picture book that children and families will enjoy, Summer Birds is also a welcome addition to literature about the fascinating history of science.

Deborah Hopkinson wrote about another woman scientist in Maria’s Comet, a book on America’s first woman astronomer, Maria Mitchell.