This epistolary picture book consists of an exchange of notes between a boy pleading to adopt a classmate's pet iguana and his apprehensive mother. Funny and true to life, the story (which has a happy ending) is amplified by Catrow's over-the-top illustrations, which portray a series of imagined scenarios, including a giant iguana riding a bike while playing a guitar.

PreS-Gr 3-This funny story is told through an amusing exchange of notes, as Alex tries to convince his seemingly unshakable mother that he should be allowed to adopt a friend's baby iguana ("If I don't take it, he goes to Stinky and Stinky's dog, Lurch, will eat it. You don't want that to happen, do you?"). The boy pulls out all the stops in his arguments: iguanas are quiet (so are tarantulas, Mom counters); the reptile could be kept on the dresser (they grow to over six feet, Mom replies); the iguana could be the brother he's always wanted (you already have a brother, Mom reminds him). Featuring his signature cartoon characters, Catrow's illustrations provide a hilarious extension of the text. Alex, with his unruly red cowlicks and kewpie-doll shape, is totally disarming, as is the iguana, which makes imaginative appearances strumming a guitar on a bike, sporting tiny swim trunks, and reading in bed. The tale is perfect for reader's-theater presentations and could also be used effectively as a writing prompt for older children. It will make even the most serious youngsters giggle.-Lee Bock, Glenbrook Elementary School, Pulaski, WI Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.

In epistolary dialogue with his mom, a lad yearning for an iguana tries various approaches, from logic and sweet talk to emotional blackmail. His mother puts up a valiant defense—"Dear Mom: Did you know that iguanas are really quiet and they're cute too. I think they are much cuter than hamsters. Love, your adorable son, Alex." "Dear Alex: Tarantulas are quiet too"—before ultimately capitulating. Catrow's scribbly, lurid, purple-and-green illustrations bring the diverse visions of parent and child to hilarious life, as a lizard of decidedly indeterminate ancestry grows in stages to the size of a horse, all the while exhibiting a doglike affection toward its balloon-headed prospective keeper—who is last seen posed by a new terrarium, pumping a fist in victory. A familiar domestic interchange, played out with broad comedy—and mutual respect, too. (Picture book. 7-9)