The Really Mean Jelly Bean

In a bowl full of colourful jelly beans, one jelly bean stands out—for all the wrong reasons. He is the mean jelly bean, and he spends his days tormenting and pushing the other jelly beans away. "You are a really mean jelly bean!" the other jelly beans say. But he just keeps on bullying. One day, the mean jelly bean looks around and finds no one left to push around. He's all alone in the candy bowl. What's a mean jelly bean to do? Can the kindness of the other jelly beans rub off on him? Sharon Curtain, mother of two, wrote The Really Mean Jelly Bean for her sons when they first attended school to help explain bullying, friendship, and learning to be happy.

How many jelly beans are enough? How many are too many? Aiden and Emma can't decide. Is 10 enough? How about 1,000? That's a lot of jelly beans. But eaten over a whole year, it's only two or three a day. This giant picture book offers kids a fun and easy way to understand large numbers. Starting with 10, each page shows more and more colorful candies, leading up to a big surprise—ONE MILLION JELLY BEANS! With bright illustrations, How Many Jelly Beans? makes learning about big numbers absolutely scrumptious!

For most Americans, candy is an uneasy pleasure, eaten with side helpings of guilt and worry. Yet candy accounts for only 6 percent of the added sugar in the American diet. And at least it's honest about what it is—a processed food, eaten for pleasure, with no particular nutritional benefit. So why is candy considered especially harmful, when it's not so different from the other processed foods, from sports bars to fruit snacks, that line supermarket shelves? How did our definitions of food and candy come to be so muddled? And how did candy come to be the scapegoat for our fears about the dangers of food? In Candy: A Century of Panic and Pleasure, Samira Kawash tells the fascinating story of how candy evolved from a luxury good to a cheap, everyday snack. After candy making was revolutionized in the early decades of mass production, it was celebrated as a new kind of food for energy and enjoyment. Riding the rise in snacking and exploiting early nutritional science, candy was the first of the panoply of "junk foods" that would take over the American diet in the decades after the Second World War—convenient and pleasurable, for eating anytime or all the time. And yet, food reformers and moral crusaders have always attacked candy, blaming it for poisoning, alcoholism, sexual depravity and fatal disease. These charges have been disproven and forgotten, but the mistrust of candy they produced has never diminished. The anxiety and confusion that most Americans have about their diets today is a legacy of the tumultuous story of candy, the most loved and loathed of processed foods.Candy is an essential, addictive read for anyone who loves lively cultural history, who cares about food, and who wouldn't mind feeling a bit better about eating a few jelly beans.

Lizzy plays at a park and meets Sam a mean, mean, jelly bean. What will Lizzy do now that she knows Sam isn't nice?

Colorful jelly beans are everywhere in this board book edition of the popular hardcover activity book. Slightly abridged from the original, this new format features full-color photos of six jelly bean scenes along with color, shape, and guessing-game challenges just right for preschoolers.

Ben really wants to answer the riddle that would win him a big jar of jelly beans, but he is too shy to say it out loud.

In her late thirties, Denise Minor lived in a spacious apartment in San Francisco with her husband Alex and their small sons Nathan and Max. Two evenings a week she taught Spanish at a local university. She was happy with her life in many ways but could not release a dream that had been simmering for a decade: earn a PhD in Spanish and become a professor. She was accepted into the University of California, Davis. Less than a year after moving there with her family, Max received a diagnosis of autism. Over the following eighteen years she chronicled the journey of dropping out of and returning to the PhD program, of dedicating herself to various therapies for Max and of trying to give her son Nathan a fair share of her attention. Alex lived an exhausting life driving between two cities to support the family and helping Denise navigate the labyrinth of services and treatments for Max. Autism, she learned, is not just a diagnosis for one person but rather is a diagnosis for the entire family. In the end, her message to other parents of children with disabilities is, “Raise your children the best you can, but don’t give up your own dreams.”