Oceanhouse Media’s Once upon a Potty app is true to the original. The focus is on the text and illustrations; digital enhancements are used sparingly and effectively. There are some polite potty sound effects and humor, and though I’m sure the urge was strong (get it?!) to make more of a splash (it’s too easy!), the producers wisely kept the intended audience in mind. The narrative’s reassuring tone, nonthreatening pictures, and unobtrusive music help distractible toddlers focus on the important information.
V O L U M E 4 , N U M B E R 8 • A U G U S T 2 0 1 1 In this issue Five questions for Marc Aronson • More new nonfiction • Dot-dot-dash — concept books with a twist • YA novels you’ve been waiting for • Of interest to adults • From the Editor For a list of books mentioned in this issue, see link below. Masthead art © by William Steig, used […]
by Ashely Waring Life with my two young sons is a study in contrasts. Alden (almost five) is high-strung; Griffin (my two-year-old) is mellow. Alden couldn’t care less about food; Griffin lives to eat. Alden keeps to himself; Griffin never stops talking. Alden has autism; Griffin does not. That last contrast is a biggie, and […]
Mention the word bibliotherapy, and children’s librarians and booksellers have similar tales to tell. The stories go something like this: a well-intentioned parent comes in and asks for a book about death. When questioned further, she explains that her child’s grandmother is dying and the child needs some books to help her understand what is […]
Packing and unpacking. Those were the governing actions of my Army brat childhood. I learned how to size up the fashion, the accents, the special vocabulary, and the social climate of every place I lived. I learned the bike and walking routes around all the Army bases and was a quick study for the best […]
“Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.” (Dumbledore, Hogwarts headmaster, page 298, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone) “For I was my father’s son, tender and only beloved in the sight of my mother. He taught me also, and said unto […]
My earliest memory of Bertha Mahony, before she added Miller to her name, begins with her feet. Small feet, proportioned to her small frame. As I was a lanky nine-year-old, I was almost as tall as she was. Her lack of size, however, had nothing to do with her authority, which was commanding, or her […]