Is there a better feeling on this earth than your toddler picking up a picture book, crawling over to you and doing that backwards plonk thing into your lap? It’s my favourite part of the day, even though half the time Olive unceremoniously slams the pages shut halfway through and wanders off to play with something else.

I’m going to start doing a regular round-up of the books we’re reading to her that pass the mustard in our household, according to two strict criteria: A. Olive is regularly enthralled by it for 5 minutes (or 2.5 minutes); and B. we can read it multiple times in a day – sometimes multiple times in a row – without wanting to knock ourselves out with the nearest walker.

More broadly, I’m always looking for something I think will expand Olive’s horizons a little bit, whether linguistically or through the imagination of the story. Here are 5 favs at the moment.

The Giant Jam Sandwich by John Vernon Lord and Janet Burroway (1972)

The story: A quaint English village is attacked by a giant horde of wasps. The residents unite to trap them in an equally giant jam sandwich.

Why it’s great: First off, the premise. Who doesn’t want to see a giant jam sandwich? Like James’s peach, it taps immediately into a sense of silliness and wonder. Like all the best kids’ books, it establishes a sense of peril right from the opening page – ‘One hot summer in Itching Down, four million wasps flew into town’ – wasps, of course, being most English children’s first encounter with a threat from nature.

But what’s really winning about this book, aside from uncompromisingly weird illustrations, is the theme of community. Corralled by the deranged Bap the Baker (all the faces in The Giant Jam Sandwich look like something from a mean political sketch), the people of Itching Down come together to thwart their annoying foes. If ‘The Village Green Preservation Society’ by The Kinks were to take the form of a children’s book, this would be it. The kicker, which I won’t spoil, is delightful too.

Mouse Goes to the Mountains by Alice Melvin, text by William Snow (2026)

The story: An intrepid mouse leaves a train station to go hiking in the mountains, taking in various vistas and elements of wildlife.

Why it’s great: I’ve had a soft spot for the Mouse series – of which Mountains is the fourth instalment – ever since I found out last year’s Mouse by the Sea was inspired by the Northumberland coast, where I grew up. The very definition of a gentle read, nothing much happens to Mouse over these rhyming verses – he just walks and takes in the land. In fact, Mouse doesn’t really have a personality at all. The real character in Melvin’s books is nature.

Each panoramic double page is a beautifully rich and detailed scene, with animals and plants to point out to an intrigued toddler. Best of all, most have flaps – our daughter loves flaps – that reveal undulating hills, underwater depths or cosy interiors. It’s all an attempt to recreate the way a good walk calms and massages your senses, and it succeeds admirably (Beatrix Potter is a good reference point here). At the end you get a glossary of flora and fauna hidden in the previous pages, which is too sophisticated for little children, but interesting nonetheless. More mood music than story, if you have a kid with a burgeoning interest in nature, Mouse could be just the fella you’re looking for.

There’s a Tiger on the Train by Mariesa Dulak and Rebecca Cobb (2024)

The story: A little boy boards a train with his father, and is joined by a series of animals doing unusual things. Only the dad misses it because he’s looking at his phone.

Why it’s great: I have a certain amount of beef with this book that made it hard to include on this list, but it comes with the undeniable endorsement of my 18-month-old who asks for it regularly (she has a thing for tigers, but still). I’ve written before about how kids’ books that hammer you with moral messaging and feel more like they exist to chastise or affirm parents than entertain kids make my teeth grind. This book – which picked up a range of awards last year – veers close to that with its phone-addicted dad (and let’s face it, it could only have been a dad, couldn’t it?) we can all tut at right until the very end.

But putting that aside, There’s a Tiger on the Train is a winner. The story is energetic and surprising, the text itself musical and great to read aloud. I love Cobb’s illustrations, which are big and bold and full of interesting perspectives (it’s a brilliantly directed book, if that makes sense). And despite my grumpiness about the phone thing, it’s hard not to feel a little lump in your throat at the end when the dad finally stops refreshing Betfair or whatever it is and takes his son’s hand.

Giraffes Can’t Dance by Giles Andreae, illustrations by Guy Parker-Rees (1999)

The story: Gerald is a giraffe who is, by all accounts, shit at dancing. Which is a problem, because everyone else in the jungle is great at it. An inspiring encounter with a cricket changes things around.

Why it’s great: Look, I’m not claiming to have uncovered a hidden gem with Giraffes Can’t Dance. It’s sold enough copies to be front and centre in any kids’ section of Waterstones, and have its own line of merch. But it is a book that somehow managed to totally escape me until recently, so the same could be true for you. If your kid likes animals, funny dances and stories of heartwarming triumph – so basically every kid alive – you should get a copy.

Told in simple but enjoyable rhyming verse, it follows Gerald’s humiliation (all the other animals laugh at him) through to his eventual triumph when he discovers a style of dancing all of his own. Along the way we encounter all kinds of fun stuff, like waltzing warthogs and baboons doing a Scottish jig. The ending is ecstatic – I can never stop myself yelling Gerald’s final “I AM DANCING” – while the message about confidence and individuality is just the right side of schmaltzy. It’s the heart of a cold, hard psychopath who doesn’t want Gerald to succeed.

All Around Bustletown – Summer by Rotraut Susanne Berner (2019)

The story: No words, just a series of scenes from a bustling town in which the same characters appear going about their day.

Why it’s great: In the last round-up I wrote about You Choose, the excellent series by Nick Sharratt and Pippa Goodhart where you can make up your own story with your toddler by letting them point at things. Ever since we’ve been drawn to what are sometimes called ‘hidden picture books’ – big, detailed pages Olive can get lost in. It’s a great way to practise naming things and using imagination together, and it’s always fascinating what she picks out.

The Bustletown series, by German graphic designer and illustrator Rotraut Susanne Berner, are great examples of the form. You can trace the same idiosyncratic characters – a lady holding an inflatable crocodile, a smug goateed moped driver – as they make their way through richly populated scenes. The other day, Olive pointed to two figures kissing and said ‘Mama and Dada’, which was either a compliment or an instruction, we’re not entirely sure.

What picture books have you been loving lately?

Bonus: 5 brilliant picture books that weren't written by Julia Donaldson