. . until one day, when Abuelo hurts his ankle at a local landfill and he can no longer do so. Sofia misses her Abuelo and wonders what she can do about the dangerous Mount Trashmore. Then she gets an idea—the town can turn the slimy mess into a park! She brainstorms and plans and finally works up the courage to go to City Hall—only to be told by a clerk that she can’t build a park because she’s just a kid! Sofia is down but not out, and she sets out to prove what one kid can do.Collect them all! Add these other STEM favorites from #1 New York Times bestselling team Andrea Beaty and David Roberts to your family library today!  Rosie Revere, EngineerIggy Peck, Architect Ada Twist, ScientistRosie Revere and the Raucous RivetersAda Twist and the Perilous PantsAda Twist’s Big Project Book for Stellar ScientistsIggy Peck’s Big Project Book for Amazing ArchitectsRosie Revere’s Big Project Book for Bold EngineersQuestioneers Family Calendar

    A child of crescent moons, a builder of mosques, a descendant of brilliance, an ancestor in training. Written as a letter from a father to his daughter, Yo Soy Muslim is a celebration of social harmony and multicultural identities. The vivid and elegant verse, accompanied by magical and vibrant illustrations, highlights the diversity of the Muslim community as well as Indigenous identity. A literary journey of discovery and wonder, Yo Soy Muslim is sure to inspire adults and children alike.

    We just have to look for them. Sometimes they exist in the most unusual places.Grandpa says circles are all around us. He points to the rainbow that rises high in the sky after a thundercloud has come. “Can you see? That’s only half of the circle. That rest of it is down below, in the earth.” He and his granddaughter meditate on gardens and seeds, on circles seen and unseen, inside and outside us, on where our bodies come from and where they return to. They share and create family traditions in this stunning exploration of the cycles of life and nature.

    There were so many things that he could do with all of that money! He could buy as much gum as he wanted, or even a walkie-talkie, if he saved enough. But somehow the money began to disappear... Readers of all ages will be delighted by this attractive new edition of Judith Viorst's beloved picture book.

    The musician answers, "The most beautiful sound is the sound of ma, of silence."But Yoshio lives in Tokyo, Japan: a giant, noisy, busy city. He hears shoes squishing through puddles, trains whooshing, cars beeping, and families laughing. Tokyo is like a symphony hall!Where is silence?Join Yoshio on his journey through the hustle and bustle of the city to find the most beautiful sound of all.

    Food is scarce, so when the boy's father brings home a map instead of bread for supper, at first the boy is furious. But when the map is hung on the wall, it floods their cheerless room with color. As the boy studies its every detail, he is transported to exotic places without ever leaving the room, and he eventually comes to realize that the map feeds him in a way that bread never could.The award-winning artist's most personal work to date is based on his childhood memories of World War II and features stunning illustrations that celebrate the power of imagination. An author's note includes a brief description of his family's experience, two of his early drawings, and the only surviving photograph of himself from that time.How I Learned Geography is a 2009 Caldecott Honor Book and a 2009 Bank Street - Best Children's Book of the Year.

    Together, they travel through their neighborhood, past the crowded bus stop, the fenced-off repair shop, and the panaderia, until they arrive at the Laundromat, where Carmela finds a lone dandelion growing in the pavement. But before she can blow its white fluff away, her brother tells her she has to make a wish. If only she can think of just the right wish to make . . .

    Molly Lou Melon is different, but this doesn't slow her down.

    He warmly conveys his own love for his two countries and described the strong and constant desire to be in both places at once: When in one country, he invariably misses the other. His grandfather, he tells us, would understand.

    They like doing all the same things, and they always eat lunch together. Lily eats peanut butter and Salma eats hummus--but what's that between friends? It turns out, a lot. Before they know it, a food fight breaks out. Can Lily and Salma put aside their differences? Or will a sandwich come between them?The smallest things can pull us apart — until we learn that friendship is far more powerful than difference. In a glorious three-page gatefold at the end of the book, Salma, Lily, and all their classmates come together in the true spirit of tolerance and acceptance.

    A reward of one grain of rice doubles day by day into millions of grains of rice when a selfish raja is outwitted by a clever village girl.

    "Come with me," he says. Hand-in-hand, they walk to the subway, tipping their hats to those they meet. The next day, the girl asks her mama what she can do--her mama says, "Come with me," and together they set out for the grocery, because one person doesn't represent an entire race or the people of a land. After dinner that night, the little girl asks if she can do something of her own--walk the dog . . . and her parents let her go. "Come with me," the girl tells the boy across the hall. Walking together, one step at a time, the girl and the boy begin to see that as small and insignificant as their part may seem, it matters to the world.

    Carman.

    But when Zubi sees her mother frowning in the mirror and talking about being “too big,” she starts to worry about her own body and how she looks. As her day goes on, she hears more and more people being critical of each other’s and their own bodies, until her outburst over dinner leads her family to see what they’ve been doing wrong—and to help Zubi see that we can all make the world a more beautiful place by being beautifully ourselves.

    In this poignant story, the counting rope is a metaphor for the passage of time and for a boy's emerging confidence in facing his blindness.