A LITTLE LIKE MAGIC

A child who uses a motorized wheelchair loses a beloved figurine.

The nameless narrator can’t stand uncomfortable hats, thick coats, stiff boots, and cold wind. The youngster especially dislikes new places. But today the child must endure all these things: Mom and the protagonist are going to watch ice sculptors building in the park. The unimpressed narrator doesn’t see the point of making sculptures that will ultimately melt. Worse, the child loses a comforting horse figurine. Reluctant to revisit the park the next night without it, the child is now more confident: “I know the way, so it’s okay.” And visiting the completed sculptures, from whale to goldfish, feels magical; the cold and the crowds “melt away.” Then, in a moment of serendipity, the narrator spies the horse figurine beneath an ice foal’s feet, cementing the child’s newfound appreciation. As seasons pass and another winter nears, the narrator dreams of icy creatures and smiles as a cold wind blows outside. The narrator realizes that though the sculptures melted, they “never went away. Not entirely.” In rhythmic text, Kurpiel gently demonstrates that ephemeral moments should be treasured and that venturing outside one’s comfort zones can be richly rewarding. Fluid illustrations clearly convey the narrator’s emotions; eye-catching blue and white hues immerse readers in the wintry atmosphere. The narrator and Mom have skin the white of the page; background characters are racially diverse.

Whimsical and thoughtful.