If you have a child under two, after a while, you probably feel the same way about the alphabet as you do about Old MacDonald, the Elmo's World theme, or that horrid song by The Fray: If I Have To Hear This One More Time, There Is No Telling What I Will Do. Enter Sara Pinto's The Alphabet Room, an adorable little semi-board book which invites young readers to open a pop-up door for each letter of the alphabet to see apples, bowls, a cat . . . you get the picture. My almost-two-year-old was genuinely excited about opening each door to see what lay behind it, and the intricacies and humor of the drawings made the book a pleasure for me to look at, too. By the time we hit "zebra," even my alphabet-proficient three-year-old wanted in on the action. — Jordana Horn

I suppose it was a good sign when my four-year-old ripped the book out of my hands as soon as it arrived and ran off with it. Twenty minutes later she was back with the book cracked open, her finger firmly planted on a picture of fruit salad served up in a fancy glass. "Will you make this for me, Mamma?" she asked. Gimme Five! focuses on how to get children to eat five servings of fruits and vegetables a day, and it ingeniously explains that a serving is about how much your child can hold in her hands ("Gimme five," get it?). I'm lucky that my kids eat a varied diet, but admittedly, they don't always get five servings of fruit and veg. The simple and non-gimmicky recipes (with pictures my daughter refers to daily) will help to ensure they do. Right back atcha, Gimme Five! - Stefania Pomponi Butler

My Cat Copies Me is a reminder of the potential that lies in toddler books to expand children's mindsets beyond their own immediate experience. Perhaps that sounds too heavy for a book that, plot-wise, is not particularly complex: just a series of anecdotes about how a cat copies its young girl owner, and how the owner learns, in turn, from the cat (don't be afraid of the dark, etc.). But the illustrations render this book exceptional: the author has studied traditional Asian landscape painting as well as Korean fine brushwork painting (gong bi hua), and it shows. Kwon's beautiful depictions of everyday objects, from intricate screenwork to simple toys on a bookshelf, will make both parents and children feel like they've spending time in someone else's world. Of course, my kids also don't know anyone who has a cat, so maybe that's what really did it for them. — Jordana Horn

Momzillas, the newest allegedly-non-roman à clef by Jill Kargman (author of several novels with titles like Wolves in Chic Clothing), explores the stay-at-home-mommy trenches of the Upper East Side. The nursery school infighting, the moneyed cliques, the opulent furnishings, the logoed handbags: all the expected elements are present and accounted for. Reading the book is basically like taking a bellyflop into the Urban Baby message boards. Kargman's observant and occasionally sharp-edged writing makes for an enjoyable read, despite the predictably shallow plot. (I am not sure why almost every novel I read about married moms makes the mom have a near-miss affair with a former lover/coworker/crush, as if to say that it is only through their pre-mothering life that they can possibly attain a degree of sexual legitimacy and recollect their individuality/libido. . . but I digress.) My review would be remiss if I did not note just how curious I am as to why "Britney Spears-Federline" is thanked in the acknowledgments. Perhaps Sean Preston and Jayden James will be moving to Park Avenue? - Jordana Horn

Every page of this high-concept Japanese picture book features the same stubby, cutely-shaped animals; they change shape and direction but always stay in the same spot. So the hippo may be smilingly present on the first page, but by the third page, only his eyes remain. The kids are asked "Who's hiding?" or "Who's backwards?" Since the book's emphasis is on pattern and name recognition rather than words, it's a good fit for both early readers and pre-literate toddlers. It may take some flipping back and forth (and my youngest always yells out "Zebra!" no matter which animal is actually missing), but they'll get into it eventually. — Rachael Brownell

Opening The Perfect Stranger, I prepared for a screed, a pastiche of clichés: working moms are saints, nannies are lazy, at-home moms are brain-dead. Instead, I found an honest, often funny and sometimes achingly sad book about what Lucy Kaylin calls "the trickiest, most controversial thing you will ever do. . . hiring a stranger to help you raise your kids." Kaylin, the executive editor of Marie Claire, interviews mothers and nannies about their experiences and dives head-first into the thorny issues of race and class. She touches on the nanny-cam phenomenon and throws in a few fine examples of Barbara Ehrenrich-style reportage. She's also got a keen wit (when her son asks her what kind of car she wants to be, she thinks,"how about I'll be a drinker of wine and reader of the newspaper? I so don't want to be a car."). And she has an eye for lovely details, such as her description of the first time she left her daughter with the woman who would become her nanny: "I walked into the sun alone, no Bjorn strapped to my chest, no hummingbird heart beat contrapuntal to mine." Anyone who plans on hiring a nanny will rely on Kaylin's candor, humor and insights to guide them; anyone who has already done so will appreciate finding a book that hits so close to home. — Jennifer V. Hughes

When I was a kid, I enjoyed crafting little birds out of pom-poms, feathers and googly eyes.  However, I did not photograph these birds in awkward social situations and write snide captions underneath them.  This is the difference between me and bizarrely successful author/artist Sloane Tanen.  Her newest book, which threatens to infiltrate baby showers nationwide, is more of the same — fluffy little chickens saddled with society-girl humor — except now all the chickens are in various stages of motherhood.   (Not laying eggs, mind you, but carrying their offspring to term in expensive maternity jeans.)  One page shows a cluster of chickens in a delivery room, gawking at the one giving birth.  If that doesn't strike you as somehow wrong, here's the caption: "Sally was thrilled about having all her sorority sisters in the delivery room... until she pooped. That was so NOT Kappa Kappa Gamma."   If you're laughing, then you'll love the one about the chicken with the botched epidural. I will admit to giggling at the illustration of an unhatched egg going to his first preschool admissions interview — but in the end, I got more entertainment out of those pom-poms, feathers and googly eyes. — Gwynne Watkins

The trials of your average everyday robot too often go unremarked upon in this hectic day and age.  Give thanks, then, that a picture book like Bob Staake's Hello, Robots! exists at all.  Told in a gleeful rhyming verse, the story follows four domestic robots of bright shades and hues as they mow, bake, clean and more, until an untimely cloudburst puts their wiring all askew.  Now Zinc is attempting to repair apple pies and Blip is raking the windows.  Only a little mechanical ingenuity involving head-swapping will solve this particular problem.  Staake decks his book in ultra-mod retro designs, as pleasing to the eye as the text is to robot-loving youth.  You won't find any robot insecurities regarding the manliness of household chores here, and kids love both the tragedy of bots gone haywire and the somewhat unorthodox plan that puts everything right. — Elizabeth Bird

A peanut butter-spattered toy buffalo faces the dreaded washing machine and makes a friend; a know-it-all stuffed stingray deadpans hilariously bad advice and misinformation; and a rubber ball with an identity crisis discovers who she really is, thanks to a wise, damp bath towel. Like the film Toy Story, this book imagines the secret lives of toys, speaking directly to children's fantasies about what might go on in the toy box while they're at school or asleep. Of course, Lumphy, StingRay, and Plastic are stand-ins for children. Each of the six stories is a tiny jewel of kid logic, and every one hits the mark by addressing children's fears and questions with humor, sincerity and sweetness. Although it is a perfect read-aloud for six- or seven-year-olds, I read two of these stories to a group of twelve-year-olds and they were entranced. Now that's some good kid lit. — Sophie Brookover

When my girlfriend said she was going to send me her copy of The Motherhood Manifesto, written by the founders of mothers' advocacy group MomsRising, I told her not to do it. I knew that the moment I cracked it open, I would be infuriated at the state of working mothers' affairs in this country. I am one of those working mothers. I know first-hand how bad things are, and I knew the book would make me confront the difficult fact that, even though I was capable of advocating for change, I was doing nothing. She sent it anyway. And as I predicted, reading it made me angry. Angry that the United States is one of the only industrialized countries in world that doesn't have paid family leave. Angry that more employers aren't open to flexible work hours. Angry that we don't have universal healthcare so that marginalized children can get the medical care they deserve. Angry that mothers still don't get equal pay for equal work. I knew that if I cracked open this book, I would be forced to make time in my already busy life to take action. I attend my first MomsRising house party next week. And I'm all fired up about it. — Stefania Pomponi Butler

On a two-page spread sit these deceivingly simple words: "On Monday, Farmer Greenstalk dropped his watch down the well." Poor Farmer Greenstalk. There he stands, staring mournfully down into a great deep well, a look of sad resignation on his face. This looks like a job for some overactive poultry.

"Chickens to the rescue!" screams the next double-page spread. Yes, whether it's helping son Jeffrey with his homework, stopping an errant duck from driving off with the farmer's truck, or lugging lost sheep back into their pen, these chickens act like a united superflock. By the end of the book, it becomes clear that even heroic chickens need their rest — and luckily, there are other animals in the wings. Chickens to the Rescue is quite possibly the best read-aloud picture book of the past year. Kids adore screaming the title as each situation becomes goofier and goofier. (One child pored so deeply over the book after storytime that he was able to pinpoint every upside-down chicken in the illustrations.) And though it doesn't appear in the book, be prepared for the kids to yell, "Pigs to the rescue!" when they catch a glimpse of the final image. — Elizabeth Bird

Full disclosure: I'm not a big fan of dogs. Despite this obstacle, I was totally won over by How to Be A Good Dog's Bobo, a dog with good intentions who just can't help being a little bit obstreperous. (Interesting — a toddler book about someone who has difficulty behaving himself? Must be some sort of strange coincidence.) In any event, fortunately, Bobo's housemate Cat is an affable tutor in the ways of the obedient world, and the illustrations are entertaining. My one caveat is that I think this sweet book would play better with an audience of kids who are familiar with dogs. The blank stares with which I was greeted as I read the pages when Bobo was being taught to "heel" were oddly reminiscent of myself in high school geometry. — Jordana Horn

Ironically, the label "momoir" screams that this is a memoir of a person who is nothing more than a mom, while the point of the book is to virtually shriek from the shelves, "I am a person! I swear! I am more than someone who changes diapers! You gotta believe me!" Good momoirs are usually either amusingly plaintive or wise and eloquent.

You're Not The Boss of Me: Adventures of a Modern Mom by Erika Schickel falls more into the former category. Schickel is definitely funny, and clearly intelligent. So maybe if you're genuinely shocked that a woman who is a mother can also be, to appropriate someone else's malapropism, "clean and articulate," then you would find her observations shocking. But I'm not sure what's "adventurous" about saying that you really hated driving a minivan. The book is in essay format, and a few of the pieces — a description of her visit to a strip club, or one that recounts her experience as an actress "giving birth" on a television show — are truly entertaining. For the most part, her book reads like a funny friend telling you stories about her kids — which would be fine, if we were friends.

A more unusual story is told in Mamarama: A Memoir of Sex, Kids & Rock 'n' Roll by Evelyn McDonnell. McDonnell, a rock music critic, stepmother, mother and thoughtful individualist, writes about herself with a rare combination of ironic detachment and honest introspection. Shaped by the music she loves, her identity is revisited and reevaluated in light of her relationships to stepdaughters and son, and transforms over the course of the well-written narrative. As she writes in the book's introduction, "A baby changes everything. Except your self." But her accommodations of self made in the name of her children are raw and true. Now here's a woman who definitely does more than change diapers. — Jordana Horn

Owen and Mzee is the book equivalent of a National Geographic special for kids. It's a photo-and-text recounting of the unusual story of Owen, a hippo abandoned by his mother after the 2004 tsunami, who was then brought to a Kenyan wildlife preserve and found a new mother/best friend in a 130-year-old tortoise, Mzee. The delight of friendship found in unexpected places is a terrific lesson for little kids. A reading to those below the age of five will probably have to be abridged and explained: they're not going to get the parts about the tsunami or the hippo rescue mission, and might be better served by the comparatively simplistic board book, Best Friends: Owen and Mzee. That being said, it's a book to grow into. My one-and-a-half-year-old son held the book and stared reverently at the photos, turning the pages slowly and murmuring "hippo . . . hippo . . ." like a mantra. Please excuse me while I go try to pry it out of his hands. Again. — Jordana Horn

Though the language of warfare is frequently invoked in Babyproofing Your Marriage, what could have devolved into a grim litany of post-children marital woes is saved by the perfect blend of humor and irreverence. "The Ten O'Clock Shoulder Tap," for example, describes the inevitable husbandly request for sex, followed by the wifely refusal. The authors offer a reasonably easy solution, "The Five Minute Fix," a fence-mending exercise involving spouse-favorable maintenance sex. If that sounds a little too Dr. Laura for you, rest assured that moms catch a break here, too — in the "Training Weekend," Mommy is instructed to leave Daddy in charge for 48 hours, nabbing some much-needed rest while simultaneously building stronger marital empathy. The authors conducted many interviews for this book and the result is real-life war stories peppered throughout that will make you sigh with recognition and relief. I've used some "fixes" to good effect and I'm planning my Training Weekend next month; hopefully, these are good steps to getting any couple out of the war zone. — Rachael Brownell