By Mo Willems
A dog and a frog become friends through spring, summer, and fall; then winter comes and the frog isn't on his rock anymore.
In spring, City Dog is let off his leash in the country for the first time in his life and tears around until he meets a frog sitting on a rock. 'You'll do,' says Country Frog, and they play Country Frog games — jumping, splashing, croaking. In summer they play City Dog games — sniffing, fetching, barking. By fall, Country Frog is tired, so they play remembering games instead, sitting together and going back over the whole year. Then it's winter, and the rock is empty. City Dog waits. Frog doesn't come. When spring comes around again, a chipmunk finds the dog sitting there. 'What are you doing?' 'Waiting for a friend,' says City Dog. Then he smiles a froggy sort of smile and says, 'But you'll do.' Four seasons, hardly any words, and Jon Muth's watercolors carrying the rest.
The book puts a death in front of a young child without ever using the word. Frog is simply not there. A four-year-old may read it as a story about seasons and friends and come away only a little wistful; an older child may work out what the empty rock means and feel it land hard. Both readings fit the same pages, so your child can take whichever one they're ready for, which is rare in a book about grief. And the ending says the thing families often need said and can't quite manage: loving someone new doesn't betray the one who's gone. 'But you'll do' holds all of that in three words. Fair warning — parents who pick it up expecting the Pigeon can get caught off guard.