Who knew I have such hopeful expectation each time I open a new picture book? I'm currently working on a list of the best and brightest of 2010/early 2011 for a library event, so I'll go through an enormous amount of books to find those "best". A lot of good, and better. All for the elusive, and oh-so-satisfying best. Crabby Pants, my friends, was not among them. The ending was a letdown. Deflation. A cat who almost, but not quite, learns something meaningful about choosing one's attitude and not letting external circumstances dictate what that attitude is going to be. Instead, the last illustration shows this poor cat back in timeout because he cut up all his family members' pants into shorts to eliminate "crabby pants."
Don't get my wrong, I don't think that every child's books should teach some lofty lesson. Pure whimsy, fun and silly are welcome, too. (Although those books often reveal how important it is to indulge in pure whimsy fun and silly) But this book was not that kind of magic, either.
I DID so want my first post about a children's book to be a glowing recommendation of something so excellent that I thought all of you should, no must read it.
But I still have a lot of good and better (and maybe just plain bad) to slog through before we get to best.
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