This modest, rhymed charmer from Andreae ought to find a market with a good number of vainglorious grandfathers. Here, Granddad has the tyke with him for the day. Every dribble, drool, splatter, and yelp invokes images of a brilliant future for the child from Granddad. Beat a pot with a spoon and visions of a symphony appear to the aged one; shoving a sandwich into the video player displays the boy’s potential as a scientist. Of a tantrum in the supermarket: “His voice is so angelic / That he’ll really suit the stage.” Of a conversation the boy is having with a dog while sitting on the potty: “And although it sounds unlikely, / If you heard my grandson speak, / You’d probably elect him / As the president next week.” The freewheeling pen-and-wash artwork gives vent to the anarchy that surrounds the oblivious grandfather. If it’s pride that ignites these dreams, who would call it a mortal sin? Who would not rather call it affection? (Picture book. 3-6)
