MOOSELTOE

This sequel to Palatini and Cole's Moosetache (1998) continues the mildly amusing antics of Moose, the ruminant whose billowing mustache would make a walrus proud. Set mostly to rhyme, and with plenty of alliterative wordplay and flashy typeface, Moose goes about preparing for Christmas. He writes his cards. He shops and wraps. He prepares a feast and strings the swags and hangs the mistletoe: “Yessiree. Getting ready for Christmas was an absolute snap. And so simple. So easy. And if he did say so himself, Moose thought, totally, utterly, completely . . . perfectly perfect.” Of course it’s not. Moose has forgotten, as his mooslings unhappily point out, the tree. Where would Santa park the presents, they would like to know? So off Moose shuffles into the cold city night, where the blustery streets sport one sold-out Christmas tree stand after another. Moose returns empty-handed, but inspiration strikes: He orders his children to fetch the “tried-and-true family glop” and gob it on his mustache in such a way as to fashion him into a Christmas tree. Some tinsel, a few bulbs and lights, and voila: Moose Spruce. Palatini’s story is a sweet bauble; it could even be hung on Moose. But neither it nor its flights of alliteration have any staying power. They dim and flicker and it is only Cole’s images, especially the last—of a coal-black room lit only by a string of colored lights, the whites of two pair of eyes, and a ho, ho, ho—that are abiding. (Picture book. 4-8)