MAMA I WISH I WAS SNOW, CHILD YOU'D BE VERY COLD

It is hard to find conviction in the concept here. Children may wish they were birds or squirrels or fish — something denoting action in another element, but how often do they want to be a chair, the sun, a fireplug, a piece of paper? Or how much would they be influenced by the mother's matter-of-fact description of what the obvious result would be? There seems little here for identification. And too often, the responses transcend the young child's understanding. Woodcuts by Ellen Raskin and the forced modern rhyme and rhythm patterns are not enough to override the text shortcomings. A disappointment from the usually dependable Ruth Krauss.