About this item

From bestselling, award-winning author Fleming and beloved illustrator of the Maple books Nichols comes a giggle-inducing read-aloud starring a cast of comically grumpy barnyard animals. Sure to become a bedtime favorite.

This funny and irresistible picture book feels like a classic in the making. When Pig plops into his sty at bedtime, he finds Cow fast asleep in his spot. "Go sleep in your own bed!" he squeals, and sends her packing. But when Cow finally snuggles down into her stall, she finds Hen sleeping there. So begins a chain reaction of snoozing barnyard animals being awakened and sent off to their own beds, until every last one is in just the right place. Young children will delight in repeating the refrain "Go sleep in your own bed!" and laugh at the antics of these hilarious - and very sleepy - farm animals.

Praise for Oh, No! by Candace Fleming:
*"Reads like an instant classic. Oh, yes! This is a terrific new picture book." - Kirkus Reviews, Starred

*"It's a book with the feel of an old classic - and it may well become one." - Publishers Weekly, Starred

"A winner for 3- and 4-year-olds." - The New York Times

Praise for the Maple series by Lori Nichols:
*"Readers will fall in love with Maple." - School Library Journal, Starred

"Utterly charming." - The New York Times



About the Author

Candace Fleming

I have always been a storyteller. Even before I could write my name, I could tell a good tale. And I told them all the time. As a preschooler, I told my neighbors all about my three-legged cat named Spot. In kindergarten, I told my classmates about the ghost that lived in my attic. And in first grade I told my teacher, Miss Harbart, all about my family's trip to Paris, France.

I told such a good story that people always thought I was telling the truth. But I wasn't. I didn't have a three-legged cat or a ghost in my attic, and I'd certainly never been to Paris, France. I simply enjoyed telling a good story... and seeing my listener's reaction.

Sure, some people might have said I was a seven-year old fibber. But not my parents. Instead of calling my stories "fibs" they called them "imaginative." They encouraged me to put my stories down on paper. I did. And amazingly, once I began writing, I couldn't stop. I filled notebook after notebook with stories, poems, plays. I still have many of those notebooks. They're precious to me because they are a record of my writing life from elementary school on.

In second grade, I discovered a passion for language. I can still remember the day my teacher, Miss Johnson, held up a horn-shaped basket filled with papier-mache pumpkins and asked the class to repeat the word "cornucopia." I said it again and again, tasted the word on my lips. I tested it on my ears. That afternoon, I skipped all the way home from school chanting, "Cornucopia! Cornucopia!" From then on, I really began listening to words--to the sounds they made, and the way they were used, and how they made me feel. I longed to put them together in ways that were beautiful, and yet told a story.

As I grew, I continued to write stories. But I never really thought of becoming an author. Instead, I went to college where I discovered yet another passion--history. I didn't realize it then, but studying history is really just an extension of my love of stories. After all, some of the best stories are true ones -- tales of heroism and villainy made more incredible by the fact they really happened.

After graduation, I got married and had children. I read to them a lot, and that's when I discovered the joy and music of children's books. I simply couldn't get enough of them. With my two sons in tow, I made endless trips to the library. I read stacks of books. I found myself begging, "Just one more, pleeeeease!" while my boys begged for lights-out and sleep. Then it struck me. Why not write children's books? It seemed the perfect way to combine all the things I loved: stories, musical language, history, and reading. I couldn't wait to get started.

But writing children's books is harder than it looks. For three years I wrote story after story. I sent them to publisher after publisher. And I



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