Babble

Once upon a time, in our harsh Dickensian past, people seemed to enjoy disciplining children. But those days are long gone, and now parents are faced with such dilemmas as whining, biting, interrupting — and few palatable solutions that actually work. Enter Positive Discipline A-Z: 1001 Solutions To Everyday Parenting Problems. This is the book to turn to when your eyes are crossed with chagrin and frustration; the authors' tone has the serene resonance of someone who can successfully talk you down off a roof. The book encourages parents to create reasonable expectations for their children as a means of encouraging mutual respect. That plays into everything from developing a hassle-free bathtime routine to assigning age-appropriate chores (a two-year-old can pick up books; a four-year-old can get the mail). Positive Discipline encourages a hybrid of firmness and kindness. It is kind and thoughtful advice that will, hopefully, help create kind and thoughtful children. Check back with me in a few years. — Jordana Horn

Edwina, The Dinosaur Who Didn't Know She Was Extinct is about living the life you wish you had, embracing irrationality and surrendering to your most absurd impulses. It's also about a dinosaur. Edwina is a helpful friendly neighborhood T-Rex whose popularity in her town is based on both her easygoing nature and her ready supply of homemade chocolate chip cookies. Her self-proclaimed nemesis, Reginald Von Hoobie Doobie, is an overly left-brained, empathy-impaired boy who tries to explain to everyone (using signs, protests and other adult-like methods) that Edwina is extinct. His failure to convince anyone is matched only by the appealingly childlike manner in which the townspeople reject his arguments. In one case, his pamphlets are turned into paper hats. If only the rest of us could turn negative propaganda into whimsical headwear, the world would be a better place. — Rachael Brownell

Don't Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late!

Mo Willems's pigeon is an obsession for my son. There's something about this simply-drawn fowl, with his perfectly round head, giant eyes and tiny beak, that inspires a look of awe and rapt attention, punctuated by squeals of delight and fits of giggles. This new hardcover follows the same pattern as the original pigeon book, the Caldecott Award-winning Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus. In that book, the friendly bus driver assigns the reader a task, then the pigeon pleads, cajoles, litigates and pitches temper tantrums (much in the manner of a precocious three-year-old) in order to convince the children reading to do the opposite. However, unlike that first book, which gives preschoolers a license to yell "no!" without angering the grown-ups, this story comes with a mellow color palette and plenty of yawning, effectively designed to lull your child to slumber. Have your child act out those on-page yawns and watch as they turn genuine. — Jessica Bennett

Singing Shijimi Clams is the tale of a friendship between an aged witch and the tuneful clams who charm her out of her loneliness . . . yeah, I was skeptical too. But then, like the witch and her curmudgeonly cat Toraji, who urges her to dump the sweet little bivalves into her pot of miso and eat them already, I started to feel sorry for the little guys. It's not their fault they're so tasty. The hundred singing clams help the witch and Toraji raise money for train tickets back to their beachy home, where the whole group lives happily ever after. If that's not a convincing plea for interspecies harmony, I don't know what is. Sadly, my seven- and five-year-old consultants declared books about clams uninteresting and refused to give this one a chance. Perhaps the clams' song — which sounds "like tiny popping bubbles," so we're told — is better suited to a more seasoned palate. — Sophie Brookover

To say that someone is "big in Canada " seems like damning them with fainter-than-faint praise. I mean, let's face it: what's big in Canada ? (Answer: The Rockies and America 's nuclear umbrella. But I digress.) So when I read that Rebecca Eckler is "one of Canada 's best-known journalists," my expectations didn't skyrocket. Eckler's momoir tells the story of what happens when her fiancé knocks her up at their engagement party. Okay, the story is less the act of knocking (that territory was covered in her previous book) and more the actuality of having a baby, and what being a parent does for a relationship. The book is a light, pleasant read that goes for the empathetic laughs rather than attempting to test the truly murky waters of how motherhood alters the soul. But I did feel for her as she talked about calling her fiancé from the house with the baby, multiple times a day, to ask, "So...when are you coming home?" Been there, done that. — Jordana Horn

I could argue that Snip Snap! What's That? is the best read-aloud picture book to come out in the last five years. Mind you, that's just my personal opinion, but examine the evidence. Exhibit A: In this tale, three children are menaced by a hungry alligator. As the reptilian threat grows ever closer, the text is regularly punctuated with the question, "Were the children scared?", to which reader and audience can holler, "You bet they were!" Exhibit B: After the alligator has torn down the door and knocked over the piano, the children have had enough: "They summoned up their courage and gave a great shout. 'Alligator, you get out!' And was the alligator scared? You bet it was!" The children are triumphant and your audience is enthralled. I've even seen kids reel back their right fists and punctuate their words like tiny Fiorello LaGuardias. Your honor, I rest my case.— Elizabeth Bird

I knew I wouldn't like this book when I saw it was billed as "a playdate for your purse." I just felt like authors Beth and Yvette were trying a little too hard to be my BFF, if you know what I mean. Peeing in Peace is a scattered mess that can't decide what it wants to be. Is it Cosmo for moms? (There's a "What Color is Your Pantyhose?" quiz to determine your working-mom personality type.) Is it a practical advice book? (There are tips on how to make it look like you're at work when you're not.) Is it a squishy self-help tome? ("Role Mommy Reality Check" pages have affirmations like "The choices you make along your journey will ultimately guide you to exactly where you want to be.") The book jacket trumpets its "hilarious" stories, but isn't it a little clichéd in 2007 to complain that, har har har, you just can't fit into those size-seven jeans anymore? Every ten pages or so is a nugget called "BC and AD" (Before Children and After Diapers). Get this: After you have kids, "road trip" doesn't mean "blasting cheesy '80s music on a twenty-four-hour drive to Daytona." It means you drive a minivan and the kids yell, "Are we there yet?" Hilarious. I did laugh when I read about Yvette's crush on Anthony from the Wiggles, but as far as I'm concerned, Anthony can have her. — Jennifer V. Hughes

When I picked up Watching . . ., I felt like I'd stumbled upon the indie-flick version of a kids' book: it was originally published in French, the story is whimsical and blurry and a tad precious, and I have no idea what species the cute main character is supposed to be. A fetal puppy? An quadrupedal seal? Whatever it is, this little blobby protagonist has been given a flower and must decide what to do with it. True to the book's title, he decides to wait until the flower is a seed, then a sprout, and finally a tree. What is the message here to tell kids? Not quite sure. At the end of the story, I was almost as confused as I was after seeing Brown Bunny, though Tyler, my four-year-old companion, just seemed contemplative. Monique Touvay's watercolor illustrations are humble and meditative, but sometimes the style gets in the way of comprehension; Tyler grew frustrated with the unfamiliar cursive script, an unfortunate font choice when the words themselves are simple enough for young readers to sound out. Watching . . . will either delight or annoy kids, depending on their entertainment preferences. Are they mini Ridley Scott fans who want florid colors and lots of exclamation points? They'll be squirming on the couch by page four. But if they were contemplating the meaning of existence before potty training, this is the book for them. — Annsley Chapman

"Children are both more and less innocent than we take them for," Boston Globe film critic Ty Burr writes in his introduction to The Best Old Movies for Families, "and we never know what they'll get out of what we hand them: boredom, laughter, ideas that shake the very foundations of their being." Burr's intro makes a persuasive case for screening Cary Grant films in between episodes of Blue's Clues; the rest of the book is an accessible film guide that shows parents where to begin. With his two young daughters in tow, Burr takes a cinematic jaunt from Buster Keaton to Mel Brooks, stopping to discover hundreds of family-friendly classics. The book works because it's not about what movies kids should like; it's about what movies they do like. Every write-up include helpful sections like Pause Button Explanations (how to explain the prostitute in Stagecoach to your toddler) and The Sell (how to convince your twelve-year-old to watch Jane Eyre, "the original goth chick"). While I disagree with some of Burr's preferences - I'd show my kids Gigi over A Star is Born any day - his smart reviews and charming family anecdotes had me loading up my Netflix que. And I'll never watch Bringing Up Baby again without thinking of his description: "Dr. Seuss with a Bryn Mawr accent." — Gwynne Watkins