Jordan Reeves, now 13, was born with only one hand; her left arm stops just above her elbow. But to anyone who asks, she was "born just right." The limb difference hasn't slowed her; rather, it's driven her to accomplish more. Instead of treating her as a child with a disability, her parents have offered Jordan abundant enrichment opportunities outside her Missouri hometown. She regularly attends in-state and national summer camps and participates in national workshops, where she's designed, generated, and 3-D printed several prosthetic arms e of which is unicorn-shaped and shoots glitter! In addition to being active in sports, dance, music, and school, Jordan has given two Ted Talks. Jordan and her mom have also established the Born Just Right Foundation to empower kids with disabilities. Jordan writes from the perspective of one who acknowledges and embraces her difference, and with this book she offers encouragement to kids of all stripes, openly advocates their potential, and puts STEM skills to amazing use. An inspiring memoir for any collection.

Born missing her left arm above the elbow, Reeves relates how she came to design a glitter-shooting prosthesis and start a nonprofit.In her upbeat account, the middle schooler chronicles growing up in Columbia, Missouri, with a family who encourages her to "figure it all out," enabling her to do everything her peers do and more. With and without a "helper arm" and task-specific hands, she plays everything from basketball to piano and attends mentoring and sports camps for kids with limb differences. Readers with disabilities will appreciate her humorous, candid approach to stares and recognize the "magical" understanding she finds among other limb-different kids. At the Superhero Cyborgs camp, she devises Project Unicorn, a glitter-shooting prosthetic arm, earning widespread fame; to involve kids with disabilities in design, she starts the Born Just Right organization. Unfortunately, Reeves' clichéd assertion that "[t]he only thing that can stop us is our attitudes" rings somewhat hollow against her acknowledgement of various privileges that help her to feel "limitless," such as her family's ability to travel across the country. However, her enthusiasm for building an inclusive world where limb-different people can succeed "and it doesn't have to be big news" is infectious. In a separate typeface, Reeves' mom occasionally interjects her encouraging thoughts on parenting a limb-different child. Black-and-white photos appear throughout. Reeves and her family present white.An affirmation that, with support and resources, kids with disabilities can shine—or sparkle. (Memoir. 9-adult)

Gr 4-8 Jordan Reeves is on a mission: she wants people to shift their thinking about disabilities. For Reeves, born a congenital amputee, her limb difference isn't an insurmountable setback. It just means she has to do things differently. Reeves writes about figuring out how to tie her shoes with one hand and a "little arm" and attending occupational therapy to help her learn other life skills. She pushes back against the idea that a limb difference means she can't play sports, swim, or dance. With some out-of-the-box thinking, she believes she can do anything "except monkey bars." She wants other kids to know they can do anything, too. Reeves writes about her experiences at camps for limb-different kids and the power of connecting with people who are different like you. Kids who are interested in 3-D printing and design will appreciate the detailed descriptions of Project Unicorn, the glitter-shooting prosthetic arm she designed, but the real strength of the book is Reeves's perspective on being different, which is positive and inclusive. Reeves's mother, cofounder and executive director of the nonprofit Born Just Right, briefly contributes to the book, adding her perspective about her daughter's journey and what it means to be a parent to a child with a limb difference. VERDICT This title provides a realistic picture of the feelings that accompany being different and may help people understand that disabled isn't a bad word. Mindy Rhiger, Hennepin County Library, MN