Happy All Over by author/illustrator Emma Quay really hits the spot for me. 

First published in Australia in 2024, this lovely, lyrical book had its U.S. debut in May (2026).  Many of the best pictures books are simple but deep, which is what makes readers return to them again and again.  Happy All Over is exactly that.  Quay’s delightful book celebrates the happiness found in the everyday, how small pleasures can bring the most joy — warm feet, mud, dandelion fluff, bubbles, licking the spoon, a bear-hug squeeze.

“A star.  The floor.  Shapes at the door.  Finding there are five when you thought there were four.”

“Happy on the inside, inside out.  Happy all over—splash it all about.”

The book is saturated with water images—so many that readers might feel gloriously drenched by the time they turn the final page.

Happy All Over is a picture book in the true sense—many of the moments are not expressed or defined in the text, but are seen only in the whimsical, ink-lined watercolor art, making both illustrations and words crucial to the experience.  The text is concise and evocative, with rhyme that falls together in a relaxed way that feels genuine and natural — not an easy feat.

“Sticky tape heaven. A squeeze. A Slice. Just the right number of spots on the dice.”

I highly recommend this beautiful picture book, not only for children, but for everyone.  Happy All Over offers a boost to all who choose to embrace Quay’s powerful perspective.

Enjoy, dear friends!

There are always wonderful new books for us to discover and love, but I hope the worthy, stand-out titles that came before are not allowed to languish or be withdrawn from library shelves.  I hope they are being recommended and passed—with enthusiasm and passion—between book lovers.  A “keeper” in my personal library is Countdown to Independence: A Revolution of Ideas in England and Her American Colonies, 1760-1776 by Natalie S. Bober (Atheneum, 2001).

Bober presents an objective, balanced and compelling picture of the key individuals and events that led to thirteen Colonies declaring independence from England.  In fine, cinematic detail Bober tells both sides of the story, taking readers inside the House of Commons to observe heated debates about British sovereignty, then across the Atlantic to witness colonists speaking passionately about liberty while carefully trying to sidestep the inevitable idea of independence.  Engaging, yet scholarly, this book has everything—rich and colorful characters, suspense, humor, violence, intrigue, romance, tragedy.

Countdown to Independence is an impressive accomplishment—well-researched, organized and executed.  It is an important contribution to the literature of American (and British) history.

Also on this holiday, I like to reread and share the lovely picture book My America, written by Jan Spivey Gilchrist and co-illustrated with my dear friend Ashley Bryan who would have been 103 this July.  Illustrating alternate pages in a kind of picture book duet, she and Ashley use different, yet complementing majestic styles in this uplifting and stunning tribute to our nation.  The book asks the question, “Have you seen my America?”  I encourage everyone to look around at our America and celebrate.

Happy Happy Birthday to us all!

When authors visit schools and it’s Q&A time, we are likely to hear many of the same questions:  What inspired you to become a writer? Where do you get your ideas? What’s your favorite book? How much money do you make?

I am generally prepared for this kind of curiosity, and I love the resulting interactions with young readers.  But, occasionally, a child (often a very young one) asks something that floors me.  This happened recently, while I was at a New Orleans school visiting 2nd graders who had read Small Shoes, Great Strides: How Three Brave Girls Opened Doors to School Equality. 

Small Shoes tells of the three 6-year-old girls (Leona Tate, Tessie Prevost, and Gail Etienne) who, in 1960, desegregated New Orleans’ McDonogh 19 Public School amidst angry mobs.  About the protesters, one second grader—whom I will call Peggy—asked, “Why are white people so dramatic?”

I couldn’t resist a little laugh at first, but then, I felt a pang in my heart.  I took a breath and said, “We all can get dramatic sometimes.  I do when I’m upset or even joyful about something that matters to me.  I’m sure you do, too.  Being dramatic isn’t something that happens only to one group of people.  The white people who protested at McDonogh 19 were upset because something was happening they didn’t like.  So you can say they got dramatic.  Other groups of people sometimes misbehave when things don’t go their way.”

Later, this felt bigger to me than that.  I realized Peggy was stereotyping—probably as a result of reading Small Shoes.  The thought that my book may have led to something bad broke my heart.  I felt a little better when Peggy’s teacher revealed that “dramatic” was on the students’ vocabulary list.  The class had been encouraged to practice using the words in their daily speech.  This insight helped.

Still, my discomfort lingers.  I had witnessed first hand how innocent minds can begin to form assumptions that categorize people based on (in this case) race, or on economics, religion, etc.  How, in the bigger picture, these assumptions can divide us and lead to ridicule, contempt or hate.

I love words.  I’ve said this many times.  I love their power to create beauty and lift up, their power—when put together in marvelous ways—to bring stories to life.  But their power to create ugliness and hurt often scares me.  I’m mindful of this and try to exercise care.  When writing, I have time to think things through, to consider each word carefully, consult a dictionary or thesaurus, and make my best choices.  It’s easier to make mistakes with words when I am simply reacting to what is happening around me.  I don’t have the luxury of thinking it through or going to a reference book.  Maybe that’s all it was with Peggy.  Maybe she was just demonstrating she knew how to use “dramatic” in a sentence.  Maybe I’m over reacting, being “dramatic.”  I hope so.

I appreciate what I can learn from my readers and from children in general.  I know after my books are published, they are no longer mine.  They have lives of their own.  I can’t, and shouldn’t want to, control what reactions may come.  Each individual brings personal baggage (good and bad) to the reading experience, and each will come away with something different.  All I can do is hope it’s something good.

Thank you, Carole. 

Just because April has ended, please don’t stop reading and sharing great poems throughout the year.