KIRKUS REVIEW
We all know them—on the plane, on the train, in the car seat, after nighty-night: big bad baby.
Little Sammy is positively cherubic—all pink and roly-poly with Kewpie-doll cowlick and goo-goo eyes—but given half a chance, he becomes Bad Baby. Applesauce too tart? Time to chase the cat with hair clippers. Nap delayed? Time to work some Jackson Pollack with the mustard squeeze bottle. But Bad Baby has his eyes on making a real statement. So he cobbles together a Monster Machine, and voilà—a really big and bad baby emerges. He plays with trucks as if they were Matchbox toys, uses a lamppost as a baton and unleashes a hurricane-force belch. Not to mention the tsunami of drool. Police, firefighters, even the librarian—all are helpless before this diapered behemoth. That is, until the clothes drier finishes with his security blanket. Hale gives Breen plenty of room, supplying a rhythmically funny text that offers up one funny situation after another. Even as a towering Babyzilla, the giant tot retains his look of wide-eyed innocence. Bad Baby conducts his mayhem with so winning a grin on his puss, he’s no threat—he’s an entertainer (as long as he stays in the picture book).
Don’t rest too easy. “I’ll be back!” intones our young Schwarzenegger. (Picture book. 3-5)
