Ramona and Her Mother
Beverly Cleary
Language: English
Pages: 224
ISBN: 038070952X
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Ramona Quimby is no longer seven, but not quite eight. She's "seven and a half right now," if you ask her! Not allowed to stay home alone, yet old enough to watch pesky Willa Jean, Ramona wonders when her mother will treat her like her older, more mature sister, Beezus.
But with her parents' unsettling quarrels and some spelling trouble at school, Ramona wonders if growing up is all it's cracked up to be. No matter what, she'll always be her mother's little girl…right? This warm-hearted story of a mother's love for her spirited young daughter is told beautifully by Newbery Medal winning author Beverly Cleary.
Supports the Common Core State Standards
silly!” “Young lady, you keep out of this,” ordered Mr. Quimby. Beezus glared at her father. “Well, you are,” she muttered. Mrs. Quimby silently poured four puddles of batter on the griddle. Ramona prayed that the quarrel, whatever it was about, was over. Beezus stirred mayonnaise into the blood-free carrots, which she then divided on four limp lettuce leaves on four salad plates. Mr. Quimby turned the bacon. Mrs. Quimby flipped the pancakes. Ramona’s stomach relaxed. In a moment her mother
saved. As Robert led her behind the screen, Mrs. Quimby sank with a little sigh into one of the plastic chairs and picked up a shabby magazine. Ramona tried to amuse herself by drawing pictures with her toe in the damp and muddy spots their boots had left on the linoleum. “Ramona, please don’t do that,” said Mrs. Quimby, glancing up from her magazine. Ramona flopped back in a chair and sighed. Her booted feet were beginning to feel hot. To pass the time, she studied pictures of hair styles
She had been through them all. She was just trying to make Ramona look babyish. Ramona was about to shout, I did not! but decided this would be unwise. Beezus had supplied a reason, a very weak reason, why she might have taken her pajamas to school. Apparently Mrs. Quimby did not accept Beezus’s explanation either, for she said, “Your pajamas did not get out of bed and run along beside you to school. Oh, well, I don’t suppose it matters.” Ramona scowled. Her mother need not think she could win
of Ramona when she was Willa Jean’s age,” someone said. And someone else answered, “She’s Ramona all over again, all right.” Ramona was filled with indignation. Willa Jean is not me all over again, she thought fiercely. I was never such a pest. “Whew!” said Mr. Quimby. “That’s over. What’s the matter with those people, letting the kid show off like that?” “Too much grandmother, I suppose,” answered Mrs. Quimby. “Or maybe it’s easier for them to ignore her behavior.” “Come on, let’s all pitch
her knitting to smile down upon her granddaughter. The situation was hopeless. “Let’s go down in the basement and see if we can think of something to build,” said Howie, and Ramona agreed. They would be undisturbed in the basement. Willa Jean was afraid of the furnace. Safe from interruption, Howie and Ramona decided to build a boat of the scrap lumber Mr. Kemp collected for Howie to work with. They had already built a dog, a cat, and a duck decoy that Mr. Kemp said would never fool a real live