I didn’t like it. I found the illustrations terribly distracting: there is all sorts of extra text throughout the illustrations showing the voices of all the other fleas in the story, but there’s no way to read those without completely disrupting the flow of the story. The main story is pretty much a selfish little flea who wants the limelight all to herself and creates a disruption that she then solves and somehow gets to be considered the hero so she gets her own way. Ugh.

The binding is not sturdy enough to stand up to library usage. The story is fine, but kind of lame. It would maybe be suitable for PreK audiences, but since most of our schools start with Kindergarten, I don’t think the sparkles and glitter on the cover is enough to make it worth purchasing. It tells of a cat who got an ice cream cone dropped on his head and in order to get the other cats to stop laughing at him, he declares it to be his magic hat, and with the help of a couple coincidences he convinces his friends until a dog comes by and he’s not able to magic them out of that jam. They climb a tree and the ice cream cone falls on the dogs head and he runs away, being chased by bees.

A wonderful tale of misunderstanding, culture shock, and opposites all rolled up in one!

Miranda, the princess, is going to her first day of public school. She has always had a private tutor before today.

Maude, the absolutely not a princess, wants to work for social justice.

Miranda is quiet and a girly, girl. Maude is a talkative, chicken loving, very casual dressing, knowledge seeking, loner – though not by choice.

On the first day of school, Miranda and Maude must sit next to each other in the back of the classroom because of alphabetical order. The princess assumes all the students will know all her likes and dislikes just like the servants do in the palace. Wrong. The other students just stare at her.

Day after day the class spends their time on practicing the Mandatory National Reading and Writing and Math Exam. Miranda does not understand the questions on the test. Miranda does not own a pencil. She is asked to borrow a pencil, which is sticky, from Maude. Miranda does not like the noisy lunch room or its food, noisy PE or noisy recess, or the music room’s recorders. Miranda keeps to herself. Maude is by herself, too. Maude is after knowledge and social justice. She has no friends, either.

Miranda’s parents inform her they are inviting her entire class to her birthday party in two weeks. Miranda says, “No.” Miranda thinks the class does not like her. When Miranda places a gold invitation on each student’s desk, before school, she purposely does not give one to Maude. Of course, Maude notices this immediately. Maude, in her quest for social justice, talks to each student individually about boycotting the party. They all agree.

The day of Miranda’s party no one shows up. Back at Maude’s house, Maude is upset, too. Then, Maude discovers the bandana she had tried to lend to Miranda is stinky. “No wonder Miranda hadn’t wanted to use it on her sneezy nose.” (103) Off Maude goes to talk to Miranda. Silence between Miranda and Maude. “And then Maude yelled, ‘ARE THOSE RAINBOW SWEETIES?’ “(107) The silence is broken and like falling dominoes the two girls discover a few things they have in common. Maude invites Miranda over to her house. Over the course of a few weeks, they become good friends. The only friend each of them has ever had.

Opposites attract. Miranda and Maude are opposites and they are now good friends.

I have mixed feelings about this book. On the one hand, I like the message it has about the two sisters finding a way to each have her own space, while still being close, but on the other hand I don’t like the way it endorses the accumulation of stuff. When the book began, describing how the sisters had begun collecting stuff as children, getting two of everything until their house is so overrun by stuff that they can’t function, I was expecting them to end up with a grand yard sale to let go of a lot of unnecessary stuff. In some ways the ending felt like a cop out.

Though some of the older Caldecott winners have become dated over the years, and lost their appeal for young readers, there’s something timeless about this one. Perhaps it is the way the illustrations capture the passing of time and how the world changes over the years. It could be useful for lessons in the younger grades on how we measure the passing of time, by days, by months, by seasons and years. And besides, it’s just a good story. If your old copy could use refreshing, it’s worth updating.

It’s fine. Worrying about growing is certainly a concern of many small children. In this case, it is Muriel’s imaginary friend (small, green, rather alligator-esque) who notices that Muriel is growing and he is not. He tries planting himself in the garden; he tries having Muriel roll him like her play dough; he tries forcing the issue; and he tries tall shoes and hat. Nothing really proves successful, but gee, overnight he does indeed grow (even if he doesn’t actually catch up to Muriel, since she grows too). It’s really intended for the youngest readers, probably best suited to PreK or Kindergarten.