Children from big families who also yearn, like Poinsettia pig, for a quiet spot to curl up and read a book--or who generally feel overwhelmed by the presence of so many others--can't help but respond to what happens here (though one might wish that Poinsettia weren't so pointlessly, and distractingly, named). Frustrated in her search for that quiet spot, Poinsettia acts up; and her father decides that the house is just ""too small""--they'll have to find a larger one. But Poinsettia, convinced ""it's the family that's too big,"" hides on moving day and stays behind--only to discover, after the satisfaction of having the house to herself wears off, that she's miserably lonesome; hanging a family photo around her neck, she wails, ""This is all I have left of my family."" Then, of course, her family reappears--too attached to the house also to move, bent on making the best of things together. More ado about the attractions of that particular picturesque house than the story calls for, maybe, but wholly recognizable nonetheless to anyone else with a bevy of brothers and sisters.