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Mom departs for the store with emphatic instructions that Harvey mustn't draw because today is "Doodleday," but Harvey doesn't obey this baffling edict. He has no idea what Doodleday is, but surely a sketch of a fly "couldn't hurt a fly," right? He frowns in concentration and, using blue pencil on white paper, produces a nice, fat, hairy fly—which immediately appears, alive and exponentially larger, "destroying the kitchen." Worried, Harvey renders a spider in purple, which also bursts into life—and snares Harvey's dad in its web. Harvey draws a bird next, then a giant squid, hoping each time that the new creature will devour the next-smallest and stop the chaos. His massive, animated artwork wreaks havoc on the neighborhood until Mom returns and draws the only thing that can contain them: Mom herself. Sketched-Mom forces the creatures back into the pad of paper, and peace is restored. Collins uses fine lines, perspective and plenty of color in portraying Harvey and the backgrounds, but the drawings-come-alive grow only in size, not detail: Each resembles a child's artwork, with grainy, crayon-textured outlines on white paper that stays flat and non-transparent. The disparate visual styles look fascinating together and distract from the niggling misnomer of a title; Harvey's work is too deliberate to be called doodling. A nifty heir to Harold and the Purple Crayon. (Picture book. 4-6)
"I'm going to the store now," said Harvey's mom. "Don't bother your dad—he's tied up with work." "Fine," said Harvey. "I'll just do some drawing."
shrieked Mom, snatching the pencil from Harvey's hand.
"DRAWING ... on Doodleday? Are you crazy?"
"What's Doodleday?" asked Harvey.
"NOBODY draws on Doodleday and that's that!"
"Why does ..." Harvey began, but Mom was already gone.
As soon as Mom was out of sight, Harvey took out the pencils he kept in his secret shoebox. "Doodleday indeed," thought Harvey. He'd never heard of such nonsense. One small drawing couldn't hurt a fly.
"That's it," thought Harvey. "I'll draw a fly."
It was an excellent fly.
What was that noise in the kitchen?
My fly!" gasped Harvey.
Harvey's fly was fat, hairy, and ENORMOUS, and it was destroying the kitchen.
Harvey was worried— no fly swatter would work on this monster. "What gets rid of flies?" he thought. "Spiders! That's it! Spiders eat flies for breakfast!"
Harvey ran back to the living room and quickly drew a big, hairy spider.
But Harvey's spider didn't care for flies.
It was far more interested in his dad.
Harvey wondered if a drawing could eat you. He wasn't going to wait to find out ...
"What eats spiders? Birds! That's it! Birds love eating spiders!" Harvey drew a great big bird, with talons and a big, bug-munching beak.
As soon as Harvey finished drawing, he heard a terrifying from outside.
There above the house was Harvey's bird. And there was Mr. Bagshaw's fence, being turned into a nest. Mr. Bagshaw wasn't happy at all ...
... and neither were the other neighbors. "Are these your drawings, Harvey?"
"Don't you know it's Doodleday?" "You fix this RIGHT NOW, young man!"
"Huge," thought Harvey. "Only something huge could reach up there."
Harvey grabbed his pad and drew the biggest creature in the world ...
Excerpted from Doodleday by Ross Collins. Copyright © 2011 Ross Collins. Excerpted by permission of ALBERT WHITMAN & Company.
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