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The Mouse Family
When Raggedy Ann and the dolls discover a hungry family of mice, Raggedy Ann feels sorry for them and sees to it that they have the largest meal they ever had. Original.
- GenresPicture Books
24 pages, Paperback
First published October 1, 2000
About the author
Andrew Clements
142 books2,278 followersI was born in Camden, New Jersey in 1949 and lived in Oaklyn and Cherry Hill until the middle of sixth grade. Then we moved to Springfield, Illinois. My parents were avid readers and they gave that love of books and reading to me and to all my brothers and sisters. I didn’t think about being a writer at all back then, but I did love to read. I'm certain there's a link between reading good books and becoming a writer. I don't know a single writer who wasn’t a reader first.
Before moving to Illinois, and even afterwards, our family spent summers at a cabin on a lake in Maine. There was no TV there, no phone, no doorbell—and email wasn’t even invented. All day there was time to swim and fish and mess around outside, and every night, there was time to read. I know those quiet summers helped me begin to think like a writer.
During my senior year at Springfield High School my English teacher handed back a poem I’d written. Two things were amazing about that paper. First, I’d gotten an A—a rare event in this teacher’s class. And she’d also written in large, scrawly red writing, “Andrew—this poem is so funny. This should be published!”
That praise sent me off to Northwestern University feeling like I was a pretty good writer, and occasionally professors there also encouraged me and complimented the essays I was required to write as a literature major. But I didn’t write much on my own—just some poetry now and then. I learned to play guitar and began writing songs, but again, only when I felt like it. Writing felt like hard work—something that’s still true today.
After the songwriting came my first job in publishing. I worked for a small publisher who specialized in how-to books, the kind of books that have photos with informative captions below each one. The book in which my name first appeared in print is called A Country Christmas Treasury. I’d built a number of the projects featured in the book, and I was listed as one of the “craftspeople”on the acknowlegements page, in tiny, tiny type.
In 1990 I began trying to write a story about a boy who makes up a new word. That book eventually became my first novel, Frindle, published in 1996, and you can read the whole story of how it developed on another web site, frindle.com. Frindle became popular, more popular than any of my books before or since—at least so far. And it had the eventual effect of turning me into a full-time writer.
I’ve learned that I need time and a quiet place to think and write. These days, I spend a lot of my time sitting in a small shed about seventy feet from my back door at our home in Massachusetts. There’s a woodstove in there for the cold winters, and an air conditioner for the hot summers. There’s a desk and chair, and I carry a laptop computer back and forth. But there’s no TV, no phone, no doorbell, no email. And the woodstove and the pine board walls make the place smell just like that cabin in Maine where I spent my earliest summers.
Sometimes kids ask how I've been able to write so many books. The answer is simple: one word at a time. Which is a good lesson, I think. You don't have to do everything at once. You don't have to know how every story is going to end. You just have to take that next step, look for that next idea, write that next word. And growing up, it's the same way. We just have to go to that next class, read that next chapter, help that next person. You simply have to do that next good thing, and before you know it, you're living a good life.
Before moving to Illinois, and even afterwards, our family spent summers at a cabin on a lake in Maine. There was no TV there, no phone, no doorbell—and email wasn’t even invented. All day there was time to swim and fish and mess around outside, and every night, there was time to read. I know those quiet summers helped me begin to think like a writer.
During my senior year at Springfield High School my English teacher handed back a poem I’d written. Two things were amazing about that paper. First, I’d gotten an A—a rare event in this teacher’s class. And she’d also written in large, scrawly red writing, “Andrew—this poem is so funny. This should be published!”
That praise sent me off to Northwestern University feeling like I was a pretty good writer, and occasionally professors there also encouraged me and complimented the essays I was required to write as a literature major. But I didn’t write much on my own—just some poetry now and then. I learned to play guitar and began writing songs, but again, only when I felt like it. Writing felt like hard work—something that’s still true today.
After the songwriting came my first job in publishing. I worked for a small publisher who specialized in how-to books, the kind of books that have photos with informative captions below each one. The book in which my name first appeared in print is called A Country Christmas Treasury. I’d built a number of the projects featured in the book, and I was listed as one of the “craftspeople”on the acknowlegements page, in tiny, tiny type.
In 1990 I began trying to write a story about a boy who makes up a new word. That book eventually became my first novel, Frindle, published in 1996, and you can read the whole story of how it developed on another web site, frindle.com. Frindle became popular, more popular than any of my books before or since—at least so far. And it had the eventual effect of turning me into a full-time writer.
I’ve learned that I need time and a quiet place to think and write. These days, I spend a lot of my time sitting in a small shed about seventy feet from my back door at our home in Massachusetts. There’s a woodstove in there for the cold winters, and an air conditioner for the hot summers. There’s a desk and chair, and I carry a laptop computer back and forth. But there’s no TV, no phone, no doorbell, no email. And the woodstove and the pine board walls make the place smell just like that cabin in Maine where I spent my earliest summers.
Sometimes kids ask how I've been able to write so many books. The answer is simple: one word at a time. Which is a good lesson, I think. You don't have to do everything at once. You don't have to know how every story is going to end. You just have to take that next step, look for that next idea, write that next word. And growing up, it's the same way. We just have to go to that next class, read that next chapter, help that next person. You simply have to do that next good thing, and before you know it, you're living a good life.
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
October 29, 2020
A cute, well-written and well-illustrated children's book about a "family" of children's toys that overnight springs to life, upon becoming aware of the hunger of the "resident" mouse family.
The "living" toys, including the amusing Uncle Clem, wearing a red military style jacket and Scottish kilt, assist the mice - who are suffering because the housewife is cleaning much more and there are consequently less scraps or crumbs for them to eat - by stealing food from the pantry, to feed the poor mice. In return, the toys get the mice to agree to not destroy property in the house such as chewing into quilts, or gnawing on things etc. The mice will be henceforth less destructive, but in return it seems the toys now have a deal that they will ensure the mice survive (will bring food to them if they need it).
For kids, the book teaches the lesson of charity, especially to animals, and also negotiating agreements - such that both parties derive something positive from a good deed. Of course this is not always necessary. Each time I've given money to a panhandler (sadly, I can't even remember the last time I did this since I haven't ridden the subways in months, but I once would do it while riding the trains, walking through the mezzanines, or platforms, going from line to line, or heading to a convenient exit, I would give to subway musicians, or beggars - I thought then it would bring me luck and I felt good that they had something for their effort) I don't expect anything in return, of course.
Still, in the book, the mice reside within the wall, and reside there permanently - they are shown as being well-established, in a tiny "mouse-apartment" in the wall, that is exactly a miniaturized version of a human home (of course): Tables, chairs, crockery on the side-board, but no food on the table - until the toys come to their rescue! The toys help the mice, the mice reciprocate by refraining from destroying the toys' owners' property. Seems fair enough..
The "living" toys were slightly unnerving - but cute nonetheless; somehow they reminded me of a horror movie I watched long ago about demonic dolls or toys - I can't even remember the film except that I know I once watched such a film about dolls that come to life but turn nasty.
Anyway, this is an entirely nice book, cheerful, and a celebration of cooperation and mutual assistance.
The following is the wrap-up of the book - how the book concludes:
"Raggedy Ann shook hands with Father Mouse, and she said, "This just goes to show that a good deed always leaves everyone better off than they were before." All the little mousekins, filled up with second helpings of cake, agreed that this was true."
The "living" toys, including the amusing Uncle Clem, wearing a red military style jacket and Scottish kilt, assist the mice - who are suffering because the housewife is cleaning much more and there are consequently less scraps or crumbs for them to eat - by stealing food from the pantry, to feed the poor mice. In return, the toys get the mice to agree to not destroy property in the house such as chewing into quilts, or gnawing on things etc. The mice will be henceforth less destructive, but in return it seems the toys now have a deal that they will ensure the mice survive (will bring food to them if they need it).
For kids, the book teaches the lesson of charity, especially to animals, and also negotiating agreements - such that both parties derive something positive from a good deed. Of course this is not always necessary. Each time I've given money to a panhandler (sadly, I can't even remember the last time I did this since I haven't ridden the subways in months, but I once would do it while riding the trains, walking through the mezzanines, or platforms, going from line to line, or heading to a convenient exit, I would give to subway musicians, or beggars - I thought then it would bring me luck and I felt good that they had something for their effort) I don't expect anything in return, of course.
Still, in the book, the mice reside within the wall, and reside there permanently - they are shown as being well-established, in a tiny "mouse-apartment" in the wall, that is exactly a miniaturized version of a human home (of course): Tables, chairs, crockery on the side-board, but no food on the table - until the toys come to their rescue! The toys help the mice, the mice reciprocate by refraining from destroying the toys' owners' property. Seems fair enough..
The "living" toys were slightly unnerving - but cute nonetheless; somehow they reminded me of a horror movie I watched long ago about demonic dolls or toys - I can't even remember the film except that I know I once watched such a film about dolls that come to life but turn nasty.
Anyway, this is an entirely nice book, cheerful, and a celebration of cooperation and mutual assistance.
The following is the wrap-up of the book - how the book concludes:
"Raggedy Ann shook hands with Father Mouse, and she said, "This just goes to show that a good deed always leaves everyone better off than they were before." All the little mousekins, filled up with second helpings of cake, agreed that this was true."
March 16, 2025
Makes me so hungry 🤤
February 11, 2012
Late at night while all the humans in the house are asleep, the toys of the house go on a grand adventure. They discover a little fmaily of mice, who are so hungry for food. The dolls decide to help them out and go down to the kitchen to get the mice some food, but they will have to avoid the fmaily dog Fido! This book is very fun, exciting, and adventurous. It is a pleasant tale about helping others and how "a good deed always leaves everyone better off than they were before." The pictures are very cute too; very colorful with lots to look at.
December 20, 2015
This book is great! I love the cute miniature mouse family.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews