Bestrewing lined sheets with crayon drawings, Polaroids, smudges, a ketchup packet (not a real one) and other signs of affection, a mouseling writes a newsy love note to her Grandmouse.
“I don’t know what to write…” she starts—but that problem disappears in a twinkling, as her attention flits from a crafts project to a pet ladybug (“I taught her to fetch”), from a museum visit (“At the butterfly tent I put honey from the cafeteria on my ears so butterflies would land on me. But none did”) to flashlight shadow puppets during the previous week’s blackout. Showing his customary gift for spot-on evocations of childlike voice and sensibility, Caldecott honoree Stein (Interrupting Chicken, 2010) interweaves Mouserella’s loosely connected comments with decorative crayon sketches, relatively more finished vignettes representing pictures in her imagination or scenes she is describing and painted “photos” of a pet chrysalis, Dadmouse and other subjects. “Write back,” she concludes, after expressing hopes of a future visit. “I mouse you.” Awww.
Sometimes snail mail is just better. Here’s proof. (Picture book. 5-7)