HERE WE ALL ARE

Picking up his memoir where 26 Fairmount Avenue (1999), left off, dePaola presents a kindergartner’s-eye view of his new house, growing family, and increasingly busy life. He remembers what a child would remember: a new stove with niches for salt and pepper shakers at the back; losing the chance to play Peter Rabbit in a class play by talking out of turn (but stealing the show anyway with onstage clowning); anxiously hoping that his mother brings a girl home from the hospital—“I already had a brother, and who needs two of those!” Between a detailed floor plan and the closing full family portrait, he brings classmates, lovely parents, a hilariously forbidding grandmother who comes for an extended visit, and other relatives to life, both in his seemingly artless narrative and with relentlessly charming portraits and tableaux. Seldom either shy or down for long, he is or becomes a friend to everyone here, and like the unsympathetic teacher who relents after being presented with a magnificent homemade valentine, readers will find his buoyancy irresistible. (Autobiography. 7-10)