For understanding a body or mind that works differently, in yourself or in a friend.
Whether it’s your own child who’s disabled, or a classmate, cousin or friend, books are one of the best ways for a child to understand disability without awkwardness. For a disabled child, seeing someone like themselves as the hero of a story matters enormously. For everyone else, a good story quietly builds the sort of easy, unbothered acceptance that makes a childhood kinder.
The best of these are written by disabled authors, and it shows: they’re funny and honest, and they refuse to be either pitied or turned into an inspiration. They treat disability as simply one of the many ways of being a person. That’s exactly the note a child takes from them.
Here’s what I’d reach for. Find your child’s age and start there.
0–3
Toddlers
Seeing themselves, and each other
At this age disability is not a subject to be explained, it is simply who is in the pictures. What follows has disabled children in it without ever making a point of them.
A rocket rhyme to bounce a baby along to, with a hearing aid, an eye patch, glasses and a wheelchair among the children climbing aboard. Kubler has been quietly putting real children into board books for decades. Rhyme, repetition and a countdown, which is close to unbeatable at two.
Rose and her cat work through a morning routine in sign, with each sign there to copy as you read it. Written by a deaf actor, and the signing is the fun of the book rather than the lesson in it. New enough that your library may not have it yet.
For little ones this is about meeting a disabled character in a warm, everyday story, and learning that different bodies are simply part of the picture.
Joe just wants to play pirates, but every child at the playground keeps asking the same question about his missing leg, until they learn there are far better things to talk about. Written by an author with one leg, it’s funny and pointed about how tiring those questions are, and it gently teaches other children when to ask and when to just get on and play. A brilliant, much-needed book.
Zibbo the dragon and his best friend, a boy who uses a wheelchair, do all the ordinary, joyful things friends do together, and the whole point is how unremarkable that is. It’s bright and celebratory, with the wheelchair simply part of the picture rather than the subject of it. Lovely for the plain idea that everyone is amazing in their own way.
Susan swims, sings, rides, sulks and laughs her way through the whole book in rhyming couplets, and only on the last page do you see the wheelchair. The point of it lands without a word of explanation. Short enough to read twice in a sitting.
In this funny, heartfelt graphic memoir, Cece navigates school with a bulky hearing aid she reimagines as a superpower, and works out friendship, embarrassment and belonging along the way. Because it comes straight from her own childhood, it rings completely true, and children race through it. A wonderful window into being the different one, and a cracking read in its own right.
Catherine longs for an ordinary life, but her younger brother is autistic, and a new friend she makes communicates through a book of picture-words, and slowly she learns what really matters about difference and friendship. It’s honest about the frustrations as well as the love, which is why it rings true. A thoughtful read for a sibling, or any child learning to see past the disability to the person.
Melody is eleven, has a razor-sharp mind and a photographic memory, and cerebral palsy that means she can’t speak or move as she’d like, so the world keeps underestimating her. Getting inside her head is eye-opening for any reader, and fierce on the gap between what a disabled child can do and what people assume. A powerful, unforgettable book for this age.
Iris, who is deaf, hears about a whale who sings at a frequency no other whale can understand, and, feeling much the same, sets out to reach him. It’s a warm adventure about loneliness, connection and being on your own wavelength, and it treats Iris’s deafness as part of her rather than a problem to fix. A satisfying, big-hearted read.
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Something to do together
A ‘this is me’ printable is on its way
A friendly page for a disabled child to set down what helps them, what gets in the way, and the things they’d like people to know, so the grown-ups around them can get it right. I’m making it now, and it will live here soon.
One last thing
The quiet aim of all of these is the same: that a disabled child feels seen and celebrated, and that every other child grows up finding disability ordinary rather than awkward. Stories do that better than any amount of explaining.
So choose the ones that fit your family, lean towards the own-voices authors where you can, and let disability be just one part of a good story rather than the whole of it. If your child has additional needs, their school’s learning-support team is a good ally to have.
These pages are written for the grown-ups looking after a child: parents, teachers and carers. A good book can sit beside a worried child, though it never stands in for a real conversation, or for proper support when something feels too big to carry alone.
Chosen by Georgia Clare, author, bibliotherapist and mother of two, for Book Quote Therapy.