The Rabbit Hole museum of children’s literature in Missouri is where the world of picture books comes to life
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NORTH KANSAS CITY, Missouri – On a crisp Saturday morning that screamed for adventure, a former tin can factory in North Kansas City, Missouri, thrummed with the sound of young people climbing, sliding, spinning, jumping, exploring and reading.
Yes, reading.
If you think this is a silent activity, you have not spent time in a first-grade classroom. And if you think all indoor destinations for young people are sticky, smelly, depressing hellholes, check your assumptions at the unmarked front door.
Welcome to The Rabbit Hole, a new, decade-in-the-making museum of children’s literature founded by the only people with the stamina for such a feat: former bookstore owners.
Mr Pete Cowdin and Ms Deb Pettid are long-married artists who share the bullish determination of the Little Red Hen. They have transformed the hulking old building into a series of settings lifted straight from the pages of beloved picture books.
But The Rabbit Hole is not a place with touch screens, a ball pit, inscrutable plaques, velvet ropes and a cloying soundtrack or adults in costumes. It does not smell like graham crackers, apple juice or worse (yet). At US$16 (S$22) a person older than two, it also is not cheap.
During the opening weekend from March 16, the museum was a hive of freckles and gap-toothed grins, with visitors ranging in age from newborn to well seasoned.
Mr Pete Cowdin, who with his wife, Ms Deb Pettid, founded The Rabbit Hole, in the office of the children’s literature museum.
PHOTO: NYTIMES
Cries of “Look up here”, “There’s a path we need to take” and “There’s Good Dog Carl” created a pleasant pandemonium. For every child galloping into the 30,000 sq ft space, there was an adult hell-bent on documenting the moment.
Did you ever have to make a shoebox diorama about your favourite book? If so, you might remember classmates who constructed move-in-ready mini kingdoms kitted out with gingham curtains, clothes-peg people and actual pieces of spaghetti.
Mr Cowdin, Ms Pettid and their team are those students, all grown up.
The main floor of The Rabbit Hole consists of 40 book-themed dioramas blown up to life-size and arranged, Ikea showroom-style, in a space the size of two hockey rinks.
The one inspired by John Steptoe’s Uptown features a pressed-tin ceiling, a faux stained-glass window and a jukebox.
Children slide down a giant foot inspired by Shel Silverstein’s Where The Sidewalk Ends at The Rabbit Hole museum.
PHOTO: NYTIMES
Children explore one of the many tunnels and portals at The Rabbit Hole museum.
PHOTO: NYTIMES
One fictional world blends into the next, allowing characters to rub shoulders in real life just as they do on a shelf. Visitors slid down the pole in The Fire Cat, slithered into the gullet of the boa constrictor in Where The Sidewalk Ends and lounged in a faux bubble bath in Harry The Dirty Dog.
There are plenty of familiar faces – Madeline, Strega Nona, Babar – but just as many areas dedicated to worthy titles that do not feature household names, including Crow Boy, Sam And The Tigers, Gladiola Garden and The Zabajaba Jungle.
Ms Emma Miller, a first-grade teacher, said: “So many of these are books I use in my classroom. It’s immersive and beautiful. I’m overwhelmed.”
As her toddler bolted towards Frog And Toad, Ms Taylar Brown said: “We love opportunities to explore different sensory things for Mason. He has autism, so this is a perfect place for him to find little hiding holes.”
A boy plays in the burrow-esque entrance to The Rabbit Hole museum.
PHOTO: NYTIMES
A boy types on a manual typewriter in the Lucky Rabbit, a bookstore arranged around a cosy amphitheatre.
PHOTO: NYTIMES
A gaggle of boys reclined on a bean bag in Caps For Sale, passing around a copy of the book. Identical twins sounded out Bread And Jam For Frances on the pink rug in the badger’s house. A three-year-old visiting for the second time listened to her grandfather reading The Tawny Scrawny Lion.
Mr Tomy Tran, a father of three from Oklahoma, said: “I’ve been to some of these indoor places, and it’s more like a jungle gym. Here, my kids will go into the area, pick up the book and actually start reading it as if they’re in the story.”
All the titles scattered around the museum are available for purchase at the Lucky Rabbit, a bookstore arranged around a cosy amphitheatre. Ms Pettid and Mr Cowdin estimate that they have sold one book per visitor, with about 650 guests a day following the pink bunny tracks from the carpark.
They have plans to expand into three more floors, adding exhibit space, a print shop, a story laboratory, a resource library and discovery galleries. An Automat-style cafeteria and George and Martha-themed party and craft room will open soon. A rooftop bar is also in the works.
Young readers crawl through a tunnel at The Rabbit Hole museum.
PHOTO: NYTIMES
Of course, museum life is not all happily ever after. Certain visitors whined, whinged and wept, especially as they approached the exit.
One weary adult said: “Charlie, we did it all.” Then, “Charlie, it’s time to go.” And finally, “Fine, Charlie, we’re leaving you here.” Cue hysteria.
But the moral of this story – and the point of the museum, and maybe the point of reading, depending on who you share books with – crystallised in a quiet moment in the great green room.
A boy in a Kansas City Chiefs Super Bowl T-shirt pretended to fall asleep beneath a fleecy blanket. Before closing his eyes, he said: “Goodnight, Grandma. Love you to the moon.” NYTIMES
