over her eyes peered in at him, and now she was smiling. "Hi, Sam," she said.
The woman with the gentle voice looked down, and
she
said, "Hi, Sam."
The man with his head on upside down leaned close. In his deep, pleasant voice, he said, "Hi, Sam."
Oh, he thought happily. Now I understand. This is my family. My sister, my mother, my father.
And I am Sam, he thought and liked the sound of it.
Sam.
Sam.
SAM.
Sam was glad when they told him they were taking him home, because the word
home
sounded kind of nice, especially the way they said it to him in warm, happy voices.
But he hated the hat.
He didn't mind the dry diapersâby now, after three days, he was quite accustomed to getting dry diapers. He liked the chance to kick his legs in the air while they changed him, and he loved the soft feeling of the powder they sprinkled on his bottom.
He didn't mind the nightgown, though he hated it when they remembered to fold the mitten part over his hands. It was much better when they left the mitten turned back, because on each hand he had fingers and a thumb that he liked to suck when he was bored, or if they didn't feed him quite quickly enough when he was hungry.
But today, for the first time, they put a sweater on top of the nightgown, and the sweater was scratchy. I don't like this, he thought.
Then they put on the hat. And he
hated
the hat. It hurt under his chin where they tied it, and one of his ears was folded right in half inside the hat. He found the edge of the hat with one hand and tried to pull it off. They laughed and covered his hand with that terrible mitten.
I HATE THIS HAT, he yelled. But it sounded like "Waaahhhh," and they all said "Shhhhhh" and patted his back.
I HATE THIS HAT, he yelled again, and they jiggled him up and down and kissed his cheek.
"We're going home," they said.
NOT WITH THIS HAT ON, Sam yelled, but they didn't pay any attention to him, none at all. They wrapped a thick blanket around him, carried him through some doorways, down some halls, through some more doorways, and down some more halls.
It was about a hundred and fifty-three miles that they carried him, and for the entire distance he yelled, TAKE THIS HATEFUL HAT OFF ME!
But they didn't.
Then, suddenly, they went through one more doorway, and they were outside. It was cold and it was windy, and Sam had never felt anything like that before. He closed his eyes tight and snuggled down into the blanket as far as he could. The man held him very close, and he could feel the man's jacket against his cheek. Only his nose and his closed eyes were sticking out of the blanket, and he could feel the cold wind on those parts of him. But he was warm everyplace elseâeven his head.
Okay, he thought; you guys know best. I guess I
need
this hat.
He liked the car. Its sound was interesting, and he especially liked the feel of it as it moved. He thought he might even fall asleep. But he stayed awake because the girl, his sister, Anastasia, was holding him now, and she didn't hold him as firmly as his father did. She wasn't used to him yet. He was afraid she might drop him.
Hold me tighter, he said. A little firmer arm under the head and neck, please. But it sounded like spitting noises, and she smiled down at him and giggled.
"Look, Sam," she said. "Look out the window. There's a big oak tree. It doesn't have any leaves yet, but it will, soon."
He tried to look, but the oak tree was too far away and the car was moving too fast.
"Now look, Sam," Anastasia said. "That's a maple tree. We're at the corner of our street."
She pointed, and he cringed. Please put that arm back under my bottom, he thought. And she did.
His sister moved him back and forth in her arms gently, and she sang to him. "Rock-a-bye, baby," she sang, "in the treetop..."
Oak tree, he thought. Maple tree. Treetop.
Trees
must be something important.
When they got home, he knew he was right. The manâhis fatherâcarried him into the house while his
The woman with the gentle voice looked down, and
she
said, "Hi, Sam."
The man with his head on upside down leaned close. In his deep, pleasant voice, he said, "Hi, Sam."
Oh, he thought happily. Now I understand. This is my family. My sister, my mother, my father.
And I am Sam, he thought and liked the sound of it.
Sam.
Sam.
SAM.
Sam was glad when they told him they were taking him home, because the word
home
sounded kind of nice, especially the way they said it to him in warm, happy voices.
But he hated the hat.
He didn't mind the dry diapersâby now, after three days, he was quite accustomed to getting dry diapers. He liked the chance to kick his legs in the air while they changed him, and he loved the soft feeling of the powder they sprinkled on his bottom.
He didn't mind the nightgown, though he hated it when they remembered to fold the mitten part over his hands. It was much better when they left the mitten turned back, because on each hand he had fingers and a thumb that he liked to suck when he was bored, or if they didn't feed him quite quickly enough when he was hungry.
But today, for the first time, they put a sweater on top of the nightgown, and the sweater was scratchy. I don't like this, he thought.
Then they put on the hat. And he
hated
the hat. It hurt under his chin where they tied it, and one of his ears was folded right in half inside the hat. He found the edge of the hat with one hand and tried to pull it off. They laughed and covered his hand with that terrible mitten.
I HATE THIS HAT, he yelled. But it sounded like "Waaahhhh," and they all said "Shhhhhh" and patted his back.
I HATE THIS HAT, he yelled again, and they jiggled him up and down and kissed his cheek.
"We're going home," they said.
NOT WITH THIS HAT ON, Sam yelled, but they didn't pay any attention to him, none at all. They wrapped a thick blanket around him, carried him through some doorways, down some halls, through some more doorways, and down some more halls.
It was about a hundred and fifty-three miles that they carried him, and for the entire distance he yelled, TAKE THIS HATEFUL HAT OFF ME!
But they didn't.
Then, suddenly, they went through one more doorway, and they were outside. It was cold and it was windy, and Sam had never felt anything like that before. He closed his eyes tight and snuggled down into the blanket as far as he could. The man held him very close, and he could feel the man's jacket against his cheek. Only his nose and his closed eyes were sticking out of the blanket, and he could feel the cold wind on those parts of him. But he was warm everyplace elseâeven his head.
Okay, he thought; you guys know best. I guess I
need
this hat.
He liked the car. Its sound was interesting, and he especially liked the feel of it as it moved. He thought he might even fall asleep. But he stayed awake because the girl, his sister, Anastasia, was holding him now, and she didn't hold him as firmly as his father did. She wasn't used to him yet. He was afraid she might drop him.
Hold me tighter, he said. A little firmer arm under the head and neck, please. But it sounded like spitting noises, and she smiled down at him and giggled.
"Look, Sam," she said. "Look out the window. There's a big oak tree. It doesn't have any leaves yet, but it will, soon."
He tried to look, but the oak tree was too far away and the car was moving too fast.
"Now look, Sam," Anastasia said. "That's a maple tree. We're at the corner of our street."
She pointed, and he cringed. Please put that arm back under my bottom, he thought. And she did.
His sister moved him back and forth in her arms gently, and she sang to him. "Rock-a-bye, baby," she sang, "in the treetop..."
Oak tree, he thought. Maple tree. Treetop.
Trees
must be something important.
When they got home, he knew he was right. The manâhis fatherâcarried him into the house while his
Similar Books
