How to Catch Books in Order

If you want to understand why the How to Catch books work, start with the basic engine: a kid or group of kids becomes absolutely convinced they can catch something that is famous for not being catchable. A leprechaun, a unicorn, a snowman, a dragon, a mermaid, a dinosaur, an elf, even the Tooth Fairy, nothing is off limits for long.

These books love a plan.

Each story is built around traps. Not one trap, usually many. The kids sketch, stack, bait, net, glue, pulley, spring, and sparkle their way toward success, while the creature at the center keeps slipping past them with a grin. That pattern gives the books their rhythm. You read for the next idea, the next near miss, and the next moment when confidence outruns common sense.

There is no heavy continuity to worry about, which is part of the charm. You can pick up How to Catch a Leprechaun in March, How to Catch an Elf in December, How to Catch a Dinosaur during a science obsession, or How to Catch a Mermaid when summer rolls around. The holiday entries and creature entries all feel like members of the same family, but each one stands on its own.

The setting changes with the target, and that matters. Snowy neighborhoods, bedrooms, classrooms, beaches, backyards, and festive houses all shape the kind of trouble the kids get into. The creature changes too. A turkey needs different thinking than a yeti. A dragon brings a different kind of spectacle than a gingerbread man. Wallace gets a lot of mileage out of matching the trap ideas to the mood of each book.

The tone stays light all the way through. Even when the kids fail to catch their target, the stories do not feel like losses. The real win is imagination. Readers get to see children build, test, fail, and try again, which is a big reason teachers and parents keep coming back to the series for read-alouds.

That playful problem-solving is the thread that holds everything together. Beneath the rhyme and the chaos, How to Catch is really a series about curiosity, invention, and the pleasure of trying something wildly ambitious just because it would be fun if it worked.