This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
To Lucy Calkins and the Teachers College Reading and Writing Project, and to all the children, teachers, friends, colleagues, and artists who have helped keep alive what my mother encouraged in me when I was a child—to see and to make something of what I saw.
And to the real Milo, whose contemplation of a puddle was the inspiration for this book. —J.H.
For my sister and my nephew. —S.K.
The illustrations in this book were made with pencil, watercolor, and digital editing.
Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for and may be obtained from the Library of Congress.
ISBN 978-1-4197-5520-0
This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
Text © 2023 James Howe
Illustrations © 2023 Sakika Kikuchi
Book design by Natalie Padberg Bartoo
Published in 2023 by Abrams Books for Young Readers, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
Printed and bound in China 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Abrams ® is a registered trademark of Harry N. Abrams, Inc.
“Everything in life is waiting to be seen.”
–Ezra Jack KeatsBy James Howe • Illustrated by Sakika Kikuchi
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Every morning, Milo goes walking with his mother.
They take the same walk around their neighborhood.
But what they see is never the same. This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
“Look, Mama, this puddle wasn’t here yesterday.”
“It rained during the night while you were sleeping.”
Milo looks at the clouds in the puddle.
“The rain left this puddle for me to find,” Milo says.
“Yes,” says his mother.
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This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
Milo looks at the boy in the puddle and touches his wet hands to the puddle boy’s hands.
“We are meeting,” Milo says. “Hello, Milo.”
“Hello, Milo,” his mother says in a wobbly voice.
“The boy in the puddle sounds funny,” says Milo.
“He is under the water,” says his mother.
“Goodbye, Milo,” Milo says, splashing the puddle.
“Goodbye, clouds. Goodbye, puddle.”
Milo and his mother walk on.
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This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
“Listen,” says Milo. “There are bees.”
“Don’t they have a lot to say this morning?” his mother asks. “How in the world do they get so much done when they are talking all the time?”
“They know what they are doing,” says Milo. “They don’t have to think about it.”
“How smart of you,” Milo’s mother says. “And how smart of the bees.”
Milo bends down to smell the yellow flowers. “Sometimes you smell like these flowers,” he tells his mother. His mother smiles.
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Milo loves all flowers, but these yellow flowers are his favorite.
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This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
“Oh, look!” Milo’s mother says.
Up, up, Milo sees the cloud tail of a plane drifting across the summer sky. He closes his eyes and listens, but all he can hear are the bees.
And a woodpecker high up in a tree.
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Milo loves birds almost as much as he loves flowers. The woodpecker is his favorite.
“I think that woodpecker has a red head,” he tells his mother.
“And a coat that is speckled black and white. Can you see it?”
“It is too far away,” says Milo. “But if I close my eyes, I can.”
“Mmm,” Milo’s mother says.
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This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
They are quiet until they come to the bench, where they sit every day and share a box of juice.
“‘Speckled’ is such a lovely word, isn’t it?” his mother asks.
“It’s fun to say,” says Milo. “Speckled.”
“Speckled,” says his mother.
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This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
“The tree looks sad today,” Milo says.
“Why do you think that?”
Milo does not have an answer. He just knows that the tree looks sad.
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When they are ready to walk again, Milo hugs the tree and whispers, “It’s OK. I will see you tomorrow and you will be happy.”
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This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
Now Blue runs up to say hello to Milo. Blue is the big dog who lives one street over. She is full of slobber and good intentions.
“She can’t help it,” Milo says, laughing as he wipes slobber off his cheeks. “She loves us.”
“She does,” says his mother.
“Goodbye, Blue,” Milo says.
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This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
Milo and his mother walk the rest of the way home hand in hand, thinking their own thoughts.
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When they get to their house, Milo turns back and says, “I wish we saw butterflies.”
Milo loves flowers and birds, but more than anything, he loves butterflies.
“Maybe we will tomorrow,” says his mother.
“Maybe,” Milo says.
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After having a snack, Milo says to his mother, “I am going to write a story. If I tell you the words, will you write them down? I will draw the pictures.”
“Of course,” his mother tells him. “Does the story have a title?”
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“‘Milo Walking,’” says Milo. “It begins with Milo looking in a puddle. Don’t write that part.”
“What should I write?”
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“‘Last night, when Milo was sleeping, the rain came down.’”
He waits for his mother to write down the words. Then he draws a puddle and says, “‘The rain left a puddle for Milo to find.’”
Milo’s mother writes, then rests her pencil as Milo thinks about what will happen next.
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There will be bees and yellow flowers and a plane and a speckled woodpecker.
There will be a sad tree and a happy, slobbering dog.
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And there will be butterflies.
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