Strong Mothers

The mother in Little Bear’s Little Boat by Eve Bunting, illustrated by Nancy Carpenter serves as a model of how to instill confidence in her cub. We see Little Bear out in his boat for hours at a time. His mother “calls him in for bed” and he ties up his boat for the night. We see that he’s responsible, and that his mother knows he’s responsible. So she gives him a lot of freedoms. Yet we also sense that she’s always near.

A few pages later, when she sees that Little Bear has outgrown his boat, she affirms his perceptions and offers her knowledge at just the right time: “It is a little bear’s destiny to grow and grow till he is a big bear. It is a little boat’s destiny to stay the same size.” We see the sadness in the cub’s eyes and the comforting hug of his mother. We know that Little Bear listens because he repeats the same words a bit later, when he carries out his course of action.

With Mother’s Day approaching, I’ve been thinking a good deal about the mothers I admire in children’s literature. This book is a small gem. Unlike Peter’s Chair (a book I adore, don't get me wrong), in which Peter is (understandably) upset that his little sister gets his crib and beloved chair, and is still coming to terms with the fact that he must part with the things that no longer serve him, Little Bear sees for himself that he’s outgrown his beloved boat, and he decides what to do about it. His mother validates his feelings and gives him words to describe this rite of passage. But she also gives Little Bear room to take in his new place in the world and decide what he wants to do about it.

Long Winter’s Nap

There are many reasons to read and reread Very Hairy Bear by Alice Schertle, illustrated by Matt Phelan.

True, it conveys the concept of hibernation for very youngest children, as the bear prepares for his long winter’s rest by eating well and then settling into a cozy spot. That also makes this an ideal nap or bedtime book, because the bear is winding down his activities.

But the best part is the wordplay. In the summer, “He eats the berries and the bushes, too. He’s a very full berryfull bear.” Matt Phelan shows a blueberry stuck to the end of each ursine toenail. As squirrels tuck acorns under oak trees, “a no-hair nose knows where to find them.” Long vowel sounds slow the pace, mirroring the bear’s transition to inactivity: soft white snowflakes “cling to bear hair (if there’s a bear there),” the text reads, as the bear becomes camouflaged by snow. The silver salmon the bear pursued in spring now “sleep deep” on the pond’s floor.

One last gasp of humor before the close as the furry fellow “scratches his big brown bear behind,” then settles down to sleep. This brief book accomplishes a lot in a short span, and your youngsters will want it close at hand.

It's spring!

Dare we say it? Spring has arrived here in New York. Temperatures have been climbing to near 60 degrees, and the sun has been out (today being an exception…). And we children’s book fans know that can mean only one thing: Bunnies and flowers and birds!

Tao Nyeu celebrates not just spring, but also summer and fall in Bunny Days, her three tales about six white bunnies. With a disarmingly simple text and artwork, she introduces the cycle of nature to toddlers who are often the first to notice a bird, frog or butterfly in our midst.

Perhaps my favorite quality about the book, because it’s so difficult to do well, is the way Tao Nyeu plays with fact and fancy. Would someone vacuum the leaves outside, and thus accidentally vacuum up the bunnies from their warren? Would real bunnies hang on the clothes line to dry after a spin in the washing machine? Of course not! But the nature of the illogical scenarios allows toddlers and preschoolers in on the joke. They already know how bunnies behave. They already know that vacuum cleaners belong inside, not outside. Just as they know balls are outside toys—or at least, they know that balls don’t belong in the living room.

Yet, because of the way Mr. and Mrs. Goat come across in the artwork, it seems perfectly plausible that they would vacuum outside or accidentally clip a cottontail while trimming the hedges. They always seem just a bit absentminded or distracted. And this leads to the other fun, gentle commentary: the bunnies are always alert and aware. So the contrast between the bunnies and Mr. and Mrs. Goat lays the groundwork for the jokes. Luckily, Bear is as alert as the bunnies and always has a solution for both the Goats and the bunnies. And because Bear is neither male nor female, goat nor bunny, Bear can be whoever the toddler reader needs Bear to be—loving guardian, caregiver, teacher, aunt or uncle.

I’ll stop there, but let me just say that this book rewards multiple readings. Each time I do, I am ever more impressed with what Nyeu accomplishes with so few words, colors, and brushstrokes.