The Penguin Who Didn’t Slip

When I started working on Master Pengo: The Penguin Sensei, I didn’t want it to feel like one of those children’s books that talks down to kids or pushes a lesson so hard that it forgets to be fun. I wanted it to feel playful first. Funny first. A little charming, a little ridiculous, and warm in the way a good picture book should be.

Master Pengo came out of that idea. He’s wise, dramatic, serious about balance, and completely committed to the role of sensei. Pip and Miso, on the other hand, are doing what most of us do when we’re trying something new for the first time: slipping, wobbling, overthinking, and trying again anyway.

That’s really what I liked about this story. Under all the humor, it’s about learning without needing to look perfect. Kids understand that better than adults sometimes. They know what it feels like to try, mess up, laugh, and go again. They don’t need a lecture about perseverance. They just need a story that feels true.

And honestly, the fun of this book is in the small details. The dojo. The icy training. The fish. The expressions. The tiny visual jokes. My favorite part is that last little wink at the end, where the story quietly lets you realize that maybe Master Pengo has had a little extra help all along. That felt more fun to me than ending on some giant moral speech. It lets the reader be in on the joke.

I think that’s what I wanted this book to be from the beginning: something kids can laugh at, but something adults can enjoy too. A story with personality. A little chaos. A little heart. And a penguin who may or may not be the most honest martial arts instructor in the snow.

Master Pengo: The Penguin Sensei was a fun one to build, and it reminded me that sometimes the best children’s stories aren’t the ones trying to sound important. They’re the ones that make you smile first.