Bored with the bedtime book about Little Rabbit, who wants to be a postman or electrician or carpenter, Timothy falls asleep contemplating more imaginative careers. Some of his notions are merely whimsical, with a touch of the surreal: he might be a lollipop taster with several tongues, a caretaker of the moon, or (shrinking to fit) a nose explorer. ""Some [noses] would be cosy and warm. But some would be cold and damp, and he would need an umbrella."" His altruistic ideas are just as whimsical--hell ""devote his life to giving tired statues a rest"" (""First on the list would be the Statue of Liberty"") or form the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Plants. (Toward people who mistreat their plants, though, he has less sympathy; he'll see to it that they are ""exposed and punished""--as the picture shows, led off in handcuffs.) This sort of dreamlike musing goes well with Le-Tan's spare, free-floating cartoon style, which you might recognize from the New Yorker (or from last year's picture book The Afternoon Cat). But, just as the bunny is for Tim, this is meager fare for an imaginative child.