“Ramona’s mother set it off. “By the way, Ramona,” said Mrs. Quimby after breakfast as she hastily tossed potatoes, carrots, and stew meat into the Crock-Pot to simmer while the family was away all day. “Please don’t run in the hall in your socks. You might slip and fall.” Ramona’s father was next. “And Ramona,” he said, pulling strings off celery before slicing it and adding it to the stew, “when you wash your hands, don’t leave the dirt on the cake of soap.” Then Beezus. “Or wipe it on the tow...el.” “I haven’t had time to get dirty,” said Ramona, who had finished her breakfast. “And I have my shoes on.” “We are talking about yesterday,” said her father. Ramona thought yesterday was a long time ago, hardly worth mentioning. “Everybody picks on me,” she said. “Poor kid.” Mr. Quimby kissed his wife on the cheek and each daughter on the top of her head. Then he said, singing the first few words, “Hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s off to work I go and at least forty-six changes in produce prices to remember.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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