It's no secret that I love children's lit: witness the bookshelf that accosts you as soon as you walk through the front door of my house. Three quarters of the titles there range anywhere from picture books to young adult literature.
One reason for this might be because I find children's literature has the ability to open me up more than adult literature. Here's an example of one such story, told in the form of a picture book:
Part of the appeal of this story is how beautiful and complex the illustrations are, and how well they complement and build upon the text. I love, love, love the little red leaf that's present on every page. As a reader, you often don't notice it the first few times through, but someone whose reading the pictures definitely does. It gives the story that extra bit of depth, but you have to really be paying attention, you have to know how to look for it.
Sometimes when I'm feeling sad, I go to Words Worth Books (that's the little indie bookstore in uptown Waterloo) and read through their children's section. I always come out with a renewed hope in things. Usually, I also come out with a new book.