A purple rhino moves in and the adults are oblivious. What’s a kid to do?
Daisy’s parents never listen to her anyway. So when she tries to point out to Mom and Dad that a huge, purple rhinoceros is strolling into the kitchen, chomping a pancake, and heading upstairs, they mishear and dismiss her. The creature makes himself at home. He hangs out in the yard; he keeps Daisy company while she dons her roller skates; he even sits on the toilet. Steadfast Daisy, unalarmed, decides that since her parents are too busy to pay attention to her, she’ll talk to the rhino instead. They become fast friends. Ogilvie uses pencil, pastel, ink, paint, monoprint, and digital tools to create lighthearted illustrations full of loose lines, enlivening the matter-of-fact, sometimes-bland text. Fanciful colors, overlaps of media, and colorings-in that escape their outlines make for a 1970s vibe. Humor and sadness blend: the rhino’s single tear is poignant as he expresses his longing to go home (“a million miles away”), but Daisy’s possible solutions include a hot air balloon and a bicycle, rejected because “the helmet would never fit.” Only outside proof of the rhino’s existence conquers Daisy’s parents’ denial, and the text dulls as Daisy reconnects with them, but the last page upticks in wit.
Amusing and whimsical. (Picture book. 3-6)