Grumpy Pants

Penguin is in a "very bad mood." Off come his "grumpy boots," "grumpy overalls," even his "grumpy underpants." A nice cold bath and a comforting bedtime routine turn his frown upside-down. Penguin humorously grumps and stomps and then visibly chills out in the spare linoleum-print illustrations with lots of white space. The simple text's repeated insistence of grumpiness sets the pace (and keeps things funny).

Penguin, dressed in yellow rain slicker and matching hat and standing under an ominous gray cloud, is in "a bad mood. A very bad mood." He stomps inside and begins shedding layers. Off come the "grumpy boots," "grumpy overalls," even his "grumpy underpants." But not even stripping down to his birthday suit can brighten his disposition. "I'm still grumpy, you know," he insists, arms crossed over his (implied) privates and throwing shade at viewers. A deep breath and a dive into a nice cold bath, complete with bubbles and a rubber ducky, begin to lift his spirits. "Little by little, he was starting to feel much better." Add a comforting bedtime routine of cozy PJs, cocoa, favorite book, and teddy bear, and you get one contented bird who's managed to turn his frown upside-down. Spare linoleum-print illustrations -- just the penguin, his clothes, a few motion lines, and some props -- with lots of white space keep viewers' eyes trained on our protagonist as he humorously grumps and stomps (we're laughing at him, not with him) and then visibly chills out (his eyebrows give us all we need to gauge his moods). A simple text captures that bad-mood feeling -- "He didn't know why and he didn't care" -- with its repeated insistence of grumpiness to help set the pace (and keep things funny). And when the pattern breaks and things start looking up, it's a welcome reminder that bad moods don't last forever. elissa gershowitz