By Ezra Jack Keats
Peter watches his old baby furniture get painted pink for the new sister, grabs his little chair, and runs away, only as far as the front sidewalk.
Peter comes downstairs to find his old cradle painted pink for his new baby sister. Then his high chair. Then his crib. When he sees his little blue chair about to get the same treatment, he snatches it, packs a bag, and 'runs away', all the way to the front of his own house with his dog Willie. He sets up his chair to sit in, and discovers he's grown too big to fit. So he goes back inside, and this time he asks to help paint the chair pink himself. A quiet classic of the displaced-older-sibling feeling, in Keats's famous collage art.
This is the book that names the jealousy without ever using the word. Peter isn't a brat; he's a small child watching his things get handed to someone new, and running away the only distance he's allowed to. Children who are quietly furious about a new baby see themselves completely, and they get to arrive at the warm ending the same way Peter does, on their own, by growing into it. Almost sixty years on it still reads true.