The Problem with the Puddles

What if your parents agreed to disagree?

Eight and a half years ago, when their beautiful baby girl was born, Mr. and Mrs. Puddle couldn't agree on what to name her. So Mrs. Puddle calls her daughter Emily and Mr. Puddle calls her Ferdinanda. And everyone else? They call her Baby.

Having parents who agree to disagree does mean twice as many presents on your birthday, but it can complicate your life! There was the time Baby's parents couldn't agree on what kind of dog to get -- so more >>

What if your parents agreed to disagree?

Eight and a half years ago, when their beautiful baby girl was born, Mr. and Mrs. Puddle couldn't agree on what to name her. So Mrs. Puddle calls her daughter Emily and Mr. Puddle calls her Ferdinanda. And everyone else? They call her Baby.

Having parents who agree to disagree does mean twice as many presents on your birthday, but it can complicate your life! There was the time Baby's parents couldn't agree on what kind of dog to get -- so they got two, both named Sally. One summer day, when rushing back to the city from their country house, the Puddles leave the Sallys behind. Will the Puddles agree to go back? What will become of the Sallys?

Kate Feiffer's debut novel is by turns funny, heartwarming, and wholly satisfying. Tricia Tusa's pleasing artwork makes the Puddles' world complete.

Let the Puddle family into your heart. You will be glad you did."The Problem with the Puddlesis a blast from first page to last. My only complaint is that I didn't write it!" -- Sara Pennypacker, author ofClementine"As far as I'm concerned, the only problem with the Puddles is that there aren't enough books about them. Now that I've actually met this eccentric family and their adventurous dogs, now that I've lived in their damp and wonderful world, now that I can actually see them, thanks to Tricia Tusa's marvelous drawings, I can't get enough of them. So hop to it, Kate Feiffer.... The world needs more Puddles!" -- Nick Bruel, author ofBad Kitty"'ROMP: to play or frolic in a lively, boisterous manner.' That's what we have right here. Take one endearing, exasperating family, two cozily canny canines, a plot that insists on going where you least expect it to, and just enough outrageous wordplay and you have as much fun as you can handle." -- Norton Juster, author ofThe Phantom Tollbooth

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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 c << less