Sweet Solitude? Templeton Gets His Wish by Greg Pizzoli

TEMPLETON WANTS HIS FAMILY TO LEAVE HIM ALONE.

HIS MOM IS GRUMPY.

And, as the folk saying goes, When Mama's not happy, nobody's happy.

Mom stands over him until he cleans his room right, and she even follows him into the bathroom to make sure his scrubbing meets her specifications.

Dad is cranky, too, and Templeton's little brother keeps snitching his best toys.

If only he could just make them all vanish!

But wait! An advertisement in the newspaper for a diamond that grants wishes catches his eye. Templeton sneaks some money from his little brother's piggybank (After all, it's rent due on his snitched toys) and places his order.

When the magical diamond arrives, Templeton wastes no time in placing his order.

AND TEMPLETON GOT HIS WISH.

HIS FAMILY WAS GONE.

Let the solitary partying begin!

Templeton plays with all his toys at the same time. The floor of his bedroom is littered with toys, candy wrappers, and cereal bowls. He even adds a few cool murals to his walls! He stays up very late, the rest of the house dark, and smiles through his window as the midnight moon rides high in the sky.

The bathtub grows dusty, as Templeton gives it a wide berth. He notices a few flies circling, and maybe a bird nest on his head? But, hey! It doesn't bother him! Baths are for mama's boys!

BUT AFTER A WHILE THE HOUSE SEEMED REALLY QUIET.

AND SOMETIMES IT WAS A LITTLE SCARY.

Greg Pizzoli's piquant tale, Templeton Gets His Wish (Hyperion Press, 2015), is a clear case of the the old be-careful-what-you-wish-for premise, executed to point up the upside of family life, shown cleverly in the contrasting illustration when a wiser Templeton mournfully looks out the one lighted window, the others dark and abandoned, into a dark night of scary sounds. As might have been predicted, he soon decides it's time to undo that wish.

Greg Pizzoli's charming illustrations are done up in mid-century cozy kitsch, and with effective but minimal text, he lets Templeton's expressions and body language reveal his second thoughts about family life. "Cheerful entertainment, with just a touch of snark," as Publishers Weekly puts it.

Go For It! The Great Thanksgiving Escape by Mark Fearing

IT WAS ANOTHER THANKSGIVING AT GRANDMA'S.

Gavin drops off their casserole in the kitchen and is ushered by his mom to his assigned station--the combination coat room and kiddies' room, a bedroom mostly populated by crawling and toddling babies with suspiciously sagging diapers and drooly pacifiers. Luckily, Gavin's audacious cousin Rhonda is already there, looking woeful. She grabs Gavin's hand with an appealing idea:

"WHAT DO YOU SAY WE BREAK OUT OF HERE AND HEAD FOR THE SWING SET IN THE BACKYARD?

THE WAY I SEE IT, GAVIN," SHE SAYS, "SOMETIMES YOU HAVE TO MAKE YOUR OWN FUN!"

But there are obstacles. First, they have to escape without a toddler on their tails. Gavin and Rhoda adopt protective cover (somebody's overcoats), and trying to blend in with the natives, crawl stealthily for the door.

But once outside, the conspirators find that there is a maze of hazards to navigate. First there is the dreaded "Hall of Aunts!" Rhonda remembers having to ice her face after the marathon of cheek pinching there last year. Then they discover that the front door is guarded by several scary guard dogs, all pretending to be fat and lazy pets snoozing on the rug. Deciding to let sleeping dogs lie, they head for the back door, only to find more gabbing, snacking, guffawing relatives blocking the way.

OH, NO! THE GREAT WALL OF BUTTS!

Avoiding the den where there is a squad of uncles yelling "Hit 'im!" at the football game on TV, Gavin and Rhonda decide it's better to try to sneak out the through the basement rec room. But seated on the floor down there are a group of teen-aged, vacant-eyed, slack-jawed creatures, all staring, mesmerized, and poking mechanically at a variety of electronic screens.

"ZOMBIES! THEY'LL EAT OUR BRAINS!" WHISPERS RHONDA DRAMATICALLY.

It's not easy being a young 'tweener who just wants a place to play at the family Thanksgiving. There's no place to have their kind of fun except outside, where now it's... raining!

"THE WAY I SEE IT, RHONDA," GAVIN DARES HER,

"SOMETIMES YOU HAVE TO MAKE YOUR OWN FUN!"

Mark Fearing' The Great Thanksgiving Escape (Candlewick Press, 2014) pokes good-natured fun at the perils of the family holiday assemblage from the viewpoint of the elementary-aged guests in a story that strikes a chord with kids and with adults who remember trying to escape with their cousins and have some FUN at the feast. Fearing's cartoon characters are spoofy but recognizable family types, shown mostly from a kid's eye view as the two young escape artists make a break for it. "Fearing's first solo picture book, based on his memories of Thanksgivings past, is a hoot for all ages," says Kirkus Reviews.

Long Live The Queen! Zoe's Room (No Sisters Allowed) by Bethanie Deeney Murguia

Zoe loves her room, especially at bedtime.

Every night, Mama gives her a kiss and turns off the light.

Zoe turns it right back on again.

In her room after bedtime, Zoe is Queen. She builds kingdoms, explores strange lands, entertains her royal court, Teddy bear and all, for tea, and stargazes through her special window on the heavens. It's Zoe's very own realm.

But one fateful day Mama delivers a decree that dethrones Zoe and deprives her of her rule over her room.

"Zoe, it's time for Addie to move out of Mama and Papa's room.  She's going to be your roommate."

Suddenly Zoe's room is not her room anymore. Addie's crib goes right where Zoe's royal tea table has always been. With a toddler in the room, lights out means LIGHTS OUT! No more nighttime revels in her kingdom for Queen Zoe. No royal tea parties and no more nocturnal explorations.  And when her little sister lets out a loud WAAAA!  in the middle of the night, Zoe suspects why Mama and Papa were only too happy for Addie to graduate to being her roommate.

Deposed Queen Zoe is miffed at her demotion from her castle and kingdom--until one night a storm rolls through, with lots of lightning and thunderboomers crashing.   Zoe is full of spunk and ginger, but not too independent to mind having a sister as company on a dark and stormy night, in Bethanie Murguia's  brand-new Zoe's Room (No Sisters Allowed) (Scholastic, 2013). Murguia's comic and assertive illustrations of the strong-minded Zoe are scintillating in a story that will resonate with many an older brother or sister forced to cohabitate with a younger sibling. "Murguia's dark blue washes set the quiet night tone, and Zoe's abundant curiosity shines from the top of her crown to the bottom of her stretched tippy-toes," reports Kirkus Reviews.

Pair this one with Zoe's hilarious debut book, Zoe Gets Ready for a double dose of Zoe-styled pizazz. (See my review here.)

Always Room for One More: Thanksgiving Graces by Mark Moulton

THE TURKEY'S IN THE OVEN

AND THE DINNER TABLE'S SET.

THE HOUSE FEELS WARM AND COZY,
THOUGH NO GUESTS HAVE COME BY YET.

But just wait. Mom and Grandma are busy slicing and stirring in the kitchen, and a boy and girl are adding some colorful gourds and tiny pumpkins to the table decorations, and the house has a quiet but expectant feel about it. Then Dad bursts in with a surprise guest. "Here's Charlie!" he says, ushering their old friend in to a big welcome. Brother fetches another chair for the table. Charlie has something to give to the feast as he agrees to join them:

“I WILL, ON ONE CONDITION.
YOU LET ME WASH THE POTS AND PANS
AND TIDY UP THE KITCHEN!”

As Charlie rolls up his sleeves and suds up the cooking utensils, there’s an energetic knock at the door. It’s Jim, home from college, with a dorm buddy in tow. But no sooner are they welcomed than an aunt from out of town and her son arrive with a a  bouquet of fall flowers for the table.

“LOOKS LIKE WE’LL NEED A FEW MORE CHAIRS!”
GRANDMA SAYS WITH A WINK.
“AND MAYBE ONE MORE TABLE IS IN ORDER,
DON’T YOU THINK?”

But before the seats are matched to present company, the phone rings. It’s Bonnie, asking if she can bring along her mother and her cousin.

The little sister looks worried. Grandma is not too busy to notice.

“WILL THERE BE ENOUGH?” SHE WHISPERS.

GRANDMA SMILES.

“THAT’S JUST THE WAY IT SEEMS TO WORK.
THE MORE YOU LOVE AND CARE,
THE MORE THERE ALWAYS SEEMS TO BE
FOR EVERYONE TO SHARE.”

There’s always room for one more at the Thanksgiving table in Mark Moulton’s THANKSGIVING GRACES (Ideals, 2011).  Moulton’s straightforward rhymes and artist’s Rockwellian illustrations, done up in proper autumnal palette, give this story of a modern family recreating the first thanksgiving feast’s unexpected guests puts the idea of joining together in thankfulness in a context that even youngsters can appreciate. Pair this one with Eve Bunting's classic tale of the Thanksgiving table, A Turkey for Thanksgiving, for a look at the true meaning of gathering together in thanksgiving.

At the Children's Table: Fancy Nancy: Our Thanksgiving Feast by Jane O'Connor

OOO-LA-LA!

GRANDMA AND GRANDPA ARE HOSTING THANKSGIVING DINNER THIS YEAR!

What's fancier than a fancy dinner? A BANQUET!

Grandma has pulled out all the stops this year--her best china and crystal, sparkling silver and the whitest of white table linens, a giant turkey, her secret dressing and real cranberry sauce that doesn't come out of a can--and Nancy, her fancy-fancying granddaughter is very pleased. Nancy is the oldest of the cousins, and she can't wait to take her seat at that beautiful table to partake of the banquet!

Mais non! Nancy finds herself seated at the children's table, set, oh, woe, with a paper tablecloth, paper plates, and paper napkins!--with all the little cousins, her little sister JoJo and rest of the preschool bunch.

"BUT I'M SO MUCH MORE MATURE THAN JOJO AND MY COUSINS!" I SAY.

"I KNOW," POINTS OUT HER SENSIBLE MOM,"BUT THERE AREN'T ENOUGH CHAIRS AT OUR TABLE."

Nancy tries to be a good sport and tough it out despite her disappointment, eating with her pinkie up and dabbing at her mouth politely after each bite. However, JoJo forgets her manners altogether, puts her napkin on her head, and makes silly faces at the others, causing cousin Arthur to laugh until he spits cranberry juice all over the table. Nancy is appalled. How gouche!

Grandma is not unaware of Nancy's plight, and graciously offers to swap places with her so that she can keep a grandmotherly eye on the little ones, and Nancy gladly takes her place at last at the big table. Despite a little spillage from the gravy boat, Nancy makes it through the dinner with reasonable elegance, while the little kids chow down and finish way before the grownups are done with their second helpings. But Grandma has prepared for that predictable eventuality, too:

NOW EVERYONE AT THE KID'S TABLE IS COLORING WITH NEW CRAYONS AND PADS OF PAPER THAT GRANDMA BOUGHT FOR US. I'M NOT BRAGGING, BUT I AM A VERY TALENTED ARTIST.

"MAY I BE EXCUSED?" I ASK MY MOM. "I'M GOING TO HELP THEM DRAW STUFF."

Nancy can't resist those new art supplies and taking Grandma's place back at the kids' table, soon has everyone busy making turkeys by tracing their hands while the grownups get to enjoy coffee and conversation with their dessert. It's a real family Thanksgiving banquet, and Grandma's table has some new handprint Thanksgiving turkeys to treasure.

Jane O'Connor's newest Nancy holiday treat, Fancy Nancy: Our Thanksgiving Banquet (Harper Festival, 2011) is an warm and insightful look at Thanksgiving, with its deep family meaning as well as its gravy spills and cranberry splashes, as Nancy proves that she is the most mature cousin, no matter where she is seated at the Thanksgiving banquet.

On the Twelve Days...: Can't Wait 'till Christmas by Mike Huckabee

Christmas was Mike's favorite season.

He loved making his wish list, decorating the tree, and eating as many cookies as he wanted.

Mike even had fun trying to be good, but it was hard, especially when his mom and dad put presents for him and his sister under the tree early--two whole weeks early.

But Mike's pleadings to open just one present--the one he just knows holds the longed-for regulation J. C. Higgins football, fall on deaf parental ears. Mom pretty much tells him to suck it up.

"I'm pretty sure you'll survive until Christmas," she observes wryly.

Mike needs an ally, and he finds one in his older sister Pat. Pat is sure her carefully wrapped present contains the chemistry set she is longing for as well, but she feels that it's her sisterly duty to prevail on Mike to follow Mom's orders.

But Mike senses an opening, and comes up with a novel gambit.

"This is the real twelve days of Christmas," he points out.

"Christmas will last twelve days instead of just one."

Pat likes the idea of observing the old English tradition, Besides, she can't wait to get her hands on those beakers and chemicals. They agree on a plan: Pat will carefully unwrap the two presents whenever Mom and Dad are safely out of the house and will use her big sister dexterity to re-wrap them so that their parents will never know the difference.

And it all works like a charm: every time Mom goes out leaving Pat in charge, the wrappings come off and the two enjoy their toys. Then Christmas morning itself rolls around. Mike and Pat carry off fake surprise and delight when they unwrap the two gifts like practiced professional thespians, but Dad gets a little suspicious when he notices Mike trying nonchalantly to remove a smudge of mud he missed on his "used" football under the pretext of "buffing it up" like the NFL guys do. Pat, however, is not quite so glib when Dad notices that one of her beakers is definitely dingy and some of the chemicals are half used up. It looks like the jig is up on this twelfth day of Christmas act!

Mike Huckabee's Can't Wait Till Christmas (Putnam's, 2010), illustrated in slightly retro style by Jed Henry, agreeably recounts the almost universal story of sneaking a peak at the presents. Who hasn't snooped in the closets and under the beds or stealthily pulled back the Christmas wrap just a smidge before the big day finally arrived? Of course, the Huckabee kids get busted and convince their parents (and themselves) that they've learned their lessons, but the two of them never forgot the year they actually got their own traditional twelve days of Christmas.

Autocratic Management: The Boss Baby by Marla Frazee

FROM THE MOMENT THAT THE BABY ARRIVED...

IT WAS OBVIOUS THAT HE WAS THE BOSS.

When this baby shows up, dressed in a natty black drop-seat onesie with spiffy white shirt and tie, toting a formidable briefcase, these parents know that their CEO has taken charge of management. He sets up his office, his "desk" the circular tray of his walker, and demands 24/7 hustle from the "staff," his increasingly pooped parents.

HE CONDUCTED MEETINGS.

LOTS AND LOTS OF MEETINGS.

MANY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.

This boss demands his executive perquisites--drinks to order summoned around the clock, his own spa for relaxation, his private jet, and a personal gym for his workouts. In true administrative style, his interoffice communications are virtually unintelligible. The Boss is happy, but worker morale is definitely at a statistical low.

THEN, ONE DAY ALL ACTIVITY GROUND TO A HALT. THE BOSS SURVEYED HIS SURROUNDINGS, EYEBALLED HIS WORKERS, AND FROWNED.

HE CALLED A MEETING. THE STAFF DID NOT RESPOND.

It looks like employee insubordination. The parental workers are apparently on a sit-down strike. In fact, they're slumped in an exhausted slumber on the couch.

When all else fails, The Boss comes to an executive decision. The usual communication media are obviously ineffective. He tries a new, more employee-sensitive management style:

MA-MA? DA-DA?

Weary new parents and even older brothers and sisters will instantly recognize the imperious management style adopted by all newborns in Caldecott Award-winning author/illustrator Marla Frazee's just published The Boss Baby (Beach Lane Books, 2010). The perfect book for new parents or parent-to-be, anyone who's ever spent time around a new baby will recognize this scenario, and Frazee's retro-stylized comic illustrations of the boss baby, his "desk" adorned with his intercom (baby monitor) and beverages (bottles), his spa a bubbly baby bathtub, and his executive jet an airplane-shaped baby swing seat are a real hoot. Lots of laughs here for all the family.

One Cat Over the Line: That Cat Can't Stay by Thad Krasnewsky

It's an old story. The kids find a lost animal. It's cute, it's needy, but one parent says "No way. No how. No pet today." And the other parent points out the poor animal's plight. In front of a big-eyed kid or two or three, what parent wants to look like an inhumane ogre?

"You're right again," Mom said to Dad.
"And I won't cry or get too sad
Just thinking of this little cat
And how a car might squash her flat.
Abandoned in a parking lot,
'Slim chance to none' is what she's got"

"Dad said, "Well,...We'll show her picture 'round
And put up posters saying FOUND.
Now kids, sit down and stop your yay-ing.
This cat's NOT--you hear!--NOT STAYING!"

Uh-huh! And as the family accumulates one, two, three, four, and then five cats, poor dad finds his favorite chair has become a feline lair upholstered with cat hair. With the innate ability of cats to make for the one person in the room who secretly doesn't like them, he finds himself covered with cats whenever he sits down--a tabby, a tuxedo, a ginger Tom and a calico, and even a gray socksie cat--to the great joy of Mom and the kids. But not to dad, who futilely laments...

"I don't like cats. They scratch my knees.
They carry fleas. They make me sneeze.
They eat my cheese. They hairball wheeze.
They're always getting stuck in trees!"

Sometimes a man has to put his foot down. Sometimes a man has to make a statement. Sometimes a man has to--get a dog! And that's what Dad does.

Dad said, "Look what I found,
All sad and lonely at the pound."
And we were happy to discover
...Daddy is a doggy lover!

Thad Krasnesky's bouncy rhyming couplets and David Perkins' clever cartoon illustrations make That Cat Can't Stay (Flashlight Books, 2010) a pleasure to read aloud and to hear. Kids will giggle at Mom's clever guilt tripping of the bossy but soft-hearted dad and will quickly pick up on his plaintive refrain as each sad kitty's case is pleaded before him. Dog lovers, cat lovers, and even (horrors!) cat shunners will find something to laugh at in this one.

Scheduled for Closing: Ella's Umbrellas by Jennifer Lloyd

ELLA HAD BIG UMBRELLAS AND SMALL UMBRELLAS.

SHE HAD THEM IN EVERY COLOR, EVEN JELLYBEAN GREEN.

A SPRINKLING HAD SPARKLES.

For Ella's friends and family, birthdays are a no-brainer. Each celebration brings her umbrellas in unusual shades and bumbershoots with bows, and she loves them all. Soon her collection crowds her own room and begins to spill out into the rest of the house.

The one day her mom gives Ella an umbrella ultimatum. Her favorite aunt is coming to visit, and plans are for Aunt Stella to bunk with Ella. But Ella's rainbow collection is stashed all over her upper bunk, her closet is all a-clutter with them, and there's no place for Aunt Stella among all of Ella's umbrellas.

ELLA'S MOTHER WAS IN A TIZZY.

"ELLA," SHE CRIED. "AUNT STELLA WILL HAVE NO PLACE TO HANG HER COAT. AUNT STELLA WILL HAVE NO PLACE TO PUT HER CLOTHES.

AUNT STELLA WILL HAVE NO PLACE TO SLEEP!"

Sadly, Ella gathers together her striped umbrellas, her polka-dotted umbrellas, her umbrellas with hearts, and all those which opened with a satisfying POP! Loading them into her wagon, she sets up for business on her front lawn with a teeny, tiny sign that reads FREE UMBRELLAS.

Carefully setting aside her favorite robin's egg-blue umbrella to keep, Ella waits for a customer. But she soon learns an important business principle: no one really wants an umbrella--at any price--on a sunny day.

Equipped with a slightly bigger sign, Ella heads downtown looking for people who perhaps need a parasol for the sun, but no one gives her beloved collection a second glance. Until--PITTER PATTER SPLASH--a sudden sprinkle turns into a torrential downpour, and Ella serendipitously finds her umbrellas a sudden hot commodity.

Under her remaining and most beloved blue umbrella, Ella is splashing home when she suddenly sees her friend the postman, dripping and drenched by the deluge, his mailbag heavy and his usual cheery whistle squelched, slogging through the shower.

IT WAS HARD, BUT ELLA KNEW WHAT TO DO.

And what do you suppose Aunt Stella has for Ella when she arrives? Yes, a long, thin box that can contain only one thing, "the most beautiful umbrella Ella had ever seen."

Jennifer Lloyd's Ella's Umbrellas (Simply Read Books, 2010) is a light-hearted antidote to April showers, illustrated fetchingly by artist Ashley Spires in sunny pastels that set off this story of an earnest little character who successfully copes with the perils of collecting, learning that there is such a thing as too much of a good thing and that sharing is better than hoarding.

Bad Girl! Constance and Tiny by Pierre Le Gall

A little girl and her enormous pet who get in and out of trouble together in jolly adventures? No, it's not Emily Elizabeth and Clifford this time: it's the alternate universe version-- French, but of course--starring Constance, the impish, rebellious anti-heroine, and her giant cat Tiny, he of the evil Cheshire cat grin and long pointy ears.

All hard angles from her severely cut black hair to her pointy red frock, Constance is no bundle of sugar and spice. Her smile is right out of Cruella DeVille, and her eyes, like those of her huge, looming cat Tiny, glare defiantly at any one who gets in her way. Author De Gall's voice-over narration from Constance and artist Eric Heliot's black and white and red illustrations work with delicious irony as they tell two distinctly different stories.

My name is Constance.

I am locked up in an evil mansion.

It's my parents' house.

They are terrible people--unfair and mean!

Constance's home, as pictured by artist Heloit, is a charming French cottage with an inviting swimming pool; her father is an easy-going guy with a comfortable smile and hands perpetually in the pockets of his baggy pants; and her mother is a tall, elegant Frenchwoman shown in the illustration presenting the petulant Constance with a large beribboned gift. Likewise, her school is described as a place "where they torture me," while the pictured Constance bangs a gong while the chorus sings merrily.

No matter. Constance cannot be consoled by any of her good fortune. In her mind her good efforts are never enough to please her parents.

And even when I try my best, they are never happy. (Teacher shows test with a big red zero to parents.)

There's nothing for it for Constance and her destructive pet Tiny except to leave their evil mansion; so, taking along a full valise and some money from her mother's purse ("just lying around in a corner," as Constance puts it,) the two steal away, free at last to enjoy all the ice cream and candy they desire.

But the parents "hire a couple of bandits" (otherwise recognizable as a kindly policeman and policewoman) to find and bring them back home, to the joy of the worried parents and the total consternation of Constance.

"Right then I knew that the horrors were far from over!" Constance declares.

It's exhausting being good all the time!"

De Gall's hilariously ironic Constance and Tiny will tickle kids' funny bones while perhaps making them appreciate the trials and tribulations of her parents whose relieved and welcoming hugs are described as "trying to suffocate me!" Despite its unrepentant little heroine, this little book's text and illustrations work together perfectly to delight children, good and bad.

Constance and Tiny continue their misadventures in Constance and the Great Escape.

Lonely Guy: Nobody Here But Me by Judith Viorst

My mom's making phone calls.

My dad's doing e-mail.

My sister's upstairs with a friend. They're playing great games. But the games are for two, not three.

So, even though there are four other people right here in this house, it's just as if there's nobody here but me.

It's four o'clock in the afternoon, and the kid is at loose ends. His parents are too busy even to multitask with him, and his sister Katie makes it clear there's no room for a little brother at her board game. He's on his own for a little while, and he's definitely NOT where he wants to be--the center of everyone's attention!

He tries coloring pictures solo, and even paints an artistic heart on the wall, announcing the proceedings out loud as he goes, but Mom keeps talking to Grandma. He tries out his scissors on his jeans and his hair and the fringe on the rug, but Dad determinedly keeps at the keyboard. Then he decides to make himself a snack:

I'm making a sandwich. I'm making a fruit drink. I'm making a chocolate dessert. And I'm turning our kitchen into a catastrophe (that's a really big mess!). But is someone, ANYONE, rushing in with the sponges and mops?

Uh uh. It's just as if there's nobody here but me.

The kid tries pestering, a bit of whining, and a run at negotiation.

--"Hey, Mom! Hello! Hell-oh? Can you hear me?"
--"Sorry, but I don't want to hear you right now!"

--"Hey, Dad! Hello! Hell-oh? Can I ask you. . . "
--"Sorry, but I don't want you asking right now!"

--"Hey, Katie! Couldn't you, just this once . . ."
--"I couldn't. Why don't you get a friend to play with?"

Sometimes there's nothing left for a kid to do but find a sulking place. The basement seems promising. There are lots of big, empty boxes to sit in down there, and it's pretty dark, and it's a good place to hide, and . . . . Trouble is, it's also kinda spooky and getting really dark down there, and besides, nobody is even looking for his hiding place.

Maybe what this family needs is some dramatics.

--"Hurry, Katie! There's a giant bird with wide dark wings and it's flapping this wings outside the bedroom window."

--"There isn't."

--"There is. I know there is. There absolutely is."

--Then why don't you climb on its back and fly away?"

Out of ploys to get attention, the boy decides there's only one dramatic gesture left for him: he puts on his p.j.'s and puts himself to bed at 5:00 p.m. Just as he seems to be dozing off, everybody finishes with their afternoon activities and comes looking for him.

--"I'm done with my phone calls. We could bake a dessert for our supper."

--"I'm done with my e-mails. We could ride our bikes before supper."

--"My friend went home. We could work on the jigsaw puzzle till supper."

--"ZZZ ZZZ! I'm in no hurry to open my eyes.

--It serves them right! But I'm glad I'm just making believe!"

But even a determined faux sleeper can't resist a group tickle, especially when the mock snoozer has his chance to be the center of everyone's attention at last!

Judith Viorst, author of such definitive childhood stories as Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, proves that she hasn't lost her chops in nailing the workings of a child's mind in her newest, Nobody Here but Me. Fortunately for our protagonist, Viorst thankfully drops the veil of suspended disbelief upon the mess left behind our kid's lonely hour, leaving us a final page showing a believable family sharing a good giggle together. Illustrator Christine Davenier's art portrays just the right touch of pathos and peskiness in Viorst's character in this delightful new picture book from an old master.