77 books like The Design of Childhood

Traction Man is a big-hearted superhero, and boy does he have some rescuing to do. Everything comes alive in this delightfully illustrated picture book about one action figure’s adventures—including evil pillows and a brave scrubbing brush who becomes Traction Man’s sidekick. But when Traction Man takes a trip to Grandma’s house in the Intergalactic People Mover (a car,) he faces his biggest challenge yet: can he pull off the green romper suit that Granny knit just for him? Laugh out loud funny!! 

I love books that show children (and adults) how to get along with others who look and live differently from them.

The relationships in the Pooh stories go well beyond a bear and a boy. The other characters are more than just different animals—each has a unique personality. There are many Pooh picture books to choose from, but I like the classic version.

I was thinking of Winnie-The-Pooh when I wrote my series. Not the specific stories or characters but the tone of the stories and the feelings they evoke. As a child, the Pooh stories fostered curiosity, calmness, and kindness. Read any Pooh story and see if you, too, feel the zen.

Shepard’s roughly-hatched illustrations are a symbiotic match for the scruffy charm and humour of Milne’s stories.

Only a couple of chapters feature snow, but they loom so large in my imagination—Pooh and Piglet following their own footsteps in search of the legendary Heffalump; and building Eeyore’s new house at Pooh Corner to shelter him from the snowstorm (unwittingly using Eeyore’s existing house as their source of wood).

As Eeyore gets buried in the snow, I can feel the cold wind with each economical scratch of Shepherd’s pen nib.

Like millions of others, I grieved when the magnificent Calvin & Hobbes cartoon strip came to an end. So, this last published collection was one to savour.

I loved how Bill Watterson would draw snowy scenes, bringing them to life with a few ragged strokes of India ink, and there are few better examples than the last strip he ever created, which closes this book.

“Everything familiar has disappeared! The world looks brand new!… It’s like having a big sheet of white paper to draw on!” declares Hobbes (that connection with an un-started picture’s potential is one reason I find snow so visually compelling).

“A day full of possibilities!” replies Calvin. “It’s a magical world, Hobbes, ol’ buddy…”

The final huge panel sees them launch into the expanse of white on their sled, whose tracks trace the topography with glorious minimalism: “… Let’s go exploring!”

What an end to ten… show more.

Knuffle Bunny: A Cautionary Tale is more than the story of a child’s missing beloved object. It is about the everyday things that a father and daughter do together. It is about the lengths a dad will go to fix a problem he was slow in figuring out. It is about the love between father and daughter. This story is so relatable, you can’t help but falling in love, and reading over and over with your kids. Or by yourself. Just because.

A.A. Milne wrote these stories as bedtime stories for his son, using his son’s own stuffed animals as the heroes.

Children are very forgiving when it comes to parents making up bedtime stories (they’ll help by pointing out inconsistencies and suggesting plot points), but children will also appreciate it if you read them these tales, which are some of the greatest, funniest, sweetest, most profound bedtime stories ever told.

Koala is the most terrible! He has a terrible face. And terrible paws. And terrible eyes that follow you everywhere! If you love to make up voices, you will find that Adam's repeat of "I don't like Koala" is subversively fun. Unleash your inner naughty child! When Adam receives Koala as a gift, he thinks there can be nothing more terrifying. His parents don't understand and all attempts to ditch this crazy stuff toy come to nothing. And then one night, Adam worries there might be something even more terrible than Koala. This one is absolutely brilliant as a read-aloud.

Two Black teenagers in New York are thrown back in time to the Civil War era. Suddenly the similarities and differences of what it means to be Black in America are also thrown into relief, past and present both converging and clashing. Genna is our first-person narrator, and through her, we live fully in two worlds—one in which she struggles to go to college and leave behind the dangers of her Brooklyn neighborhood and one in which she struggles to stay alive in a volatile society which offers little support to the poor and vulnerable of any race.

Janie Reinart’s lyrical telling of this story, coupled with Morgan Taylor’s beautiful illustrations, takes the reader on a ride filled with love and emotion. It’s about refugee children who have, as the author says, “nothing but dreams.” Big Sister wants Little Sister to be happy, so she decides she can create something from nothing. She makes amazing things, but they don’t last. However, when Big Sister makes a mud doll, the two sisters play together, create other mud dolls, and continue to dream. What affected me the most as I read this is that this book is based on a real refugee camp, and proceeds are donated to UNICEF where our collective kindness can have the power to heal. 

An orphan with no home or money of her own, Katharine is her aunt’s pawn, sent to do all her dirty work. As the story opens in 1852, it’s to undertake the unthinkable—have her child-like Uncle Tulman committed to an asylum. While this novel doesn’t employ ‘magic’, I love Victorian-era stories and this one had numerous intriguing threads: Katharine’s innocent, genius uncle created fantastical mechanical inventions, many characters to root for who didn’t quite ‘fit’ the society’s norms, and a maze of a house with mysterious, suspicious happenings. I could see no way for poor Katharine to save her uncle and his protective community, so the story twists thrilled me.