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1
Rain Falls on the Puddles
MONDAY MORNING, AUGUST 31
A cloud hovers over the Puddles.
Every day clouds zipped across the sky until they got to the Puddle property. No one knew why. All anyone knew was that when a cloud did get to the Puddles' house, it stopped. It took time out of its busy schedule to hang out for a while and practice its shape-making. It was as if the cloud suddenly forgot it was heading to a hurricane in Florida or an important blizzard in Canada. Perhaps it knew a family named Puddle lived below, or perhaps, as Baby Puddle believed, there was a big sign in the sky above their house that saidSTOP FOR PUDDLES.
On this particular morning on the last day of August, under a dog-shaped cloud, the Puddles dashed back and forth between their station wagon and the house. Baby Puddle loaded a backpack; a suitcase; three board games; her roller skates; her favorite stuffed dog, named Snore; and twelve cans of dog food into the car. Tom Puddle carried his backpack; a suitcase; his records; a record player; his oldest stuffed bear, named Bert; and a baseball bat out to the station wagon. Mr. Puddle returned to the house for "just one more thing" twenty-two times, and Mrs. Puddle crammed books into every empty space she could find.
At first the Puddles' two dogs traipsed behind, back and forth, from house to car to house to car to house to car to house to car. Then they wised up, sat down in the grass, and watched the people Puddles load up their Ford Country Squire.
The shiny red car with wood-paneled siding sunk down under the weight of so much stuff. Amazingly, the house didn't appear much emptier, even as the car filled all the way up. Boxes remained stacked on top of other boxes. Shopping bags, backpacks, and suitcases littered the hallway. The Puddles probably would have kept trying to jam things into the car, except that Mrs. Puddle looked at her watch and screeched, "Okay, guys, it's time to go. We're done. We're packed. Let's get into the car. Scoot."
They looked at the car and could barely see through the windows. Baby wondered how they'd possibly all fit in it. Mrs. Puddle didn't really care how; she'd do whatever it took. Tom hadn't seen his best friend for two months, so he planned on holding his breath for the entire ride if he had to do that to fit in. Baby wanted to make sure she fit in because she missed her city bedroom, but since she was skinny, she figured she could fit anywhere. Mr. Puddle thought that if he didn't fit, he'd stay in the country, but his seat was the only empty one. Mrs. Puddle didn't like to drive on narrow curvy roads. She refused to drive more than thirty-five miles per hour, so she couldn't drive on the highway, and she positively hated driving onto the ferry. So Mr. Puddle generally sat in the driver's seat, which happened to be the only seat without something already on it. He sighed a deep, sad, long groaning sigh and got into the car.
Before Baby got in, she looked up at the sky and saw the dog-shaped cloud. It lifted its back leg. Sure enough, rain fell on the Puddles.copyright © 2009 by Kate Feiffer
Excerpted from The Problem with the Puddles by Kate Feiffer
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
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