A Little Bit of Everything
Sometimes reading doesn’t have a theme—we go with what feels right, and what a better place than picture books to explore all the feelings and ideas. These three books are a great cross-section of ideas from anxiety to gender expression to colonialism; topics that are undoubtedly connected even if these books seem to be about different things. This particular trio was reference in our February 2021 newsletter and it was high time we shared them here—if you want to receive Picture Books To Grow right to your inbox, you can sign up at the bottom of our home page!
There Must Be More Than That
by Shinsuke Yoshitake
My partner and I have two kids who both tends towards anxiety. But really, anxiety does seem to be on the rise for any person who is awake during this very challenging time in the world. This book is perfect for people of any age who struggles with worrying about the future. It features a little girl who is racked with anxiety because her brother has just told her that the future is sure to be terrible, full of war, not enough food, and other terrible calamities. She dissolves into floods of tears and runs into talk to her grandmother. Her grandmother reminds her gently that we don’t know what the future holds, but “there must be more” than just a horrible future or a sunny dystopia. Explaining that nobody, not even grownups, can know what the future holds, the girl’s grandmother suggests many different futures: might there be a future where robots do our homework? Where Christmas is every Saturday? Where this is a zero-gravity switch in all of our bedrooms? Her grandmother reminds the girl that children are often offered a binary set of choices: a cat or a dog, the park or inside, but that the world is full of beautiful and endless possibilities which will only be revealed with time. I think this book is helpful for any person to remind themselves of the gentle aphorism that “worry is a rocking chair, it gets you going and it takes you nowhere” and that the future will only be revealed with time.
I Love My Purse
by Belle Demont & Illustrated by Sonja Wimmer
There are lots of books in this genre (What Riley Wore, The Kid’s Guide to Gender Identity are two other excellent books) but I love this book because it reminds us that a child’s courage in being who they are also serves as inspiration for adults. The book features a 7 or 8 year old boy named Charlie, who is always looking to snazz up his wardrobe. This week, he wants to accessorize with a bright red purse. Although his dad, his classmates, and older children express surprise (aren’t boys supposed to carry frogs, not purses?) none of their responses provoke shame in Charlie. His dad says to him “I love my Hawaian shirts. But I can’t just wear them to work!” does not impact Charlie whose tagline for challenges to his purse are “maybe tomorrow Dad, but today, I’m sticking with my purse.” Ultimately, his classmates feels inspired by Charlie to wear what they want, his dad decides to wear Hawaian shirts, and his school is a little more free because of Charlie’s ability to wear what he wants. Although the world does not always work this way, I love the idea that instead of teaching our children what the rules of the world are in order to keep them safe, we can learn from their example and be more free. I personally feel inspired by Charlie to wear track suits to teach in when we go back to the classroom.
When We Were Alone
by David A. Roberston & Julie Flett
This beautiful and gentle picture-book is helpful in beginning to talk to children about anti-Indigenous racism and the history of settler colonialism and residential schools. It involves a little girl talking to her grandmother, and asking her grandmother a number of questions, including why does her grandmother have long and braided hair, why does she love sitting and talking with her family members so much, and why does she wear brightly coloured clothing. Her grandmother gently points to the connections between her behaviour and clothing now, and the history of residential schools that sought to strip her of her Indigenous identity. The book’s tag phrase “when we were alone” is a direct arrow to the heart, as her grandmother remembers that in the residential school they cut off her hair, but when she and the other children “were alone” they braided grass into their to pretend it was long again. Or, to the question as why she loves to spend so much time with her family, she remembers that, before the school, when she was a child, family was the most important thing. But when she was taken to the residential school, she and her brother were separated, but sometimes they could sneak off “when we were alone” to spend time together again, and they would take off their mittens and hold each other’s hands. Now she tell her granddaughter, “I am always with my family.” When I was in graduate school, a painting hung on the wall of a friend of mine of two women friends or lovers holding hands, and on the top it said “They are even afraid of our songs of love.” Like the best children’s books, When We Were Alone not only reminds us of the history of residential schools, but also the importance of connection, whether it is with our biological families or our chosen families or both at once. I think of the last line of this book often to remind myself of the importance of holding my family and friends close.