The Life of Ty: Penguin Problems Read Free

stroller.”
    â€œMrs. Webber doesn’t allow siblings. You know that.”
    â€œThen put her in her sling. You could say the sling was your purse.”
    Mom laughs. I don’t want her to laugh. I want her to say, “What a good idea!”
    â€œAnyway, she’s not even a sibling. Not really.” Because she’s so teensy is why. “ Sss oon she’ll be a sss ibling, but right now she’s just a sss . A suh !”
    Mom roughs up my hair with her knuckles. “Sorry, bub. But you know what? You’ll have a great time anyway.”
    â€œI know,” I say. But I might or I might not. I get to choose. “I’ll probably be put in Breezie’s mom’s group.”
    â€œWell, that’s good.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWill Lexie be with you and Breezie?”
    â€œMaybe.”
    â€œThen that’s good, isn’t it?”
    I think about Lexie’s rubber-band gun. During math, when we were doing take-aways, Lexie shot a kitten. Not a real kitten, a kitten on a poster. The kitten was clinging to a tree. HANG IN THERE! it said underneath.
    If the kitten had been real, it would have fallen. Instead of five take away three, Lexie would have taken away that kitten.
    I think more about Lexie, like how she didn’t eat her healthy crackers at snack time. She said they were gross. So I told her about Teensy Baby Maggie’s gross crackers, which are called “teething biscuits” even though they’re not biscuits and even though Maggie doesn’t have a single tooth. And even though Teensy Baby Maggie can’t even eat them yet! A lady gave them to Mom at her baby shower, and now they’re just sitting in our pantry. I tried one for the fun of it, only it wasn’t fun.
    â€œWhy are they called teething biscuits if they’re not for people with teeth?” Lexie said. “That’s dumb.”
    Then she crushed one of her gross crackers to smithereens and said, “I don’t want a baby sister, ever. If I saw someone without teeth, I would run and scream. And why do you have to call her Teensy Baby Maggie every single day of your life?”
    â€œI don’t have to. I just do.” I pulled my eyebrows together. “Everyone does.”
    â€œWell, I think it’s stupid,” she said. She scattered her gross cracker crumbs on my shoe. “Were you Teensy Baby Ty when you were a baby? Or were you Stupid Baby Ty?”
    I decide to stop thinking about Lexie.
    â€œIt’s only half-good that I’ll be in her group,” I tell Mom. “Sometimes Lexie is annoying.”
    â€œAh,” Mom says. “And that is why it’s all-the-way good that I got you as my son. I’m glad you’re my Tyster.”
    â€œAnd I’m glad you’re my Momster.”
    â€œA monster? You think I’m a monster ?!”
    I giggle.
    She tickles me, and I giggle more.
    â€œI can’t believe you just called me a monster!” she says. “My own dearest, darlingest son!”
    â€œ Mom ster! Not monster !”
    From the baby monitor on the kitchen counter, I hear a noise.
    A bad noise. A worse-than-the-noise-Price-made-on-the-playground noise.
    â€œDid you hear that?” Mom says.
    I grab the remote and turn up the volume on the TV. “I love this part. The piano lid is going to slam down on Tom’s head, see?”
    â€œTy, put that on mute, would you? I think I heard Baby Maggie.”
    If I had an extendable arm, I’d reach over to the baby monitor and put it on mute.
    Mom tries to rise. I cling to her like a howler monkey.
    â€œTy, please.”
    She attempts to pry me off her. I don’t let her. Every time she unlocks one part of me, I lock on with another. It’s funny.

    â€œWhen you were a baby, I went to you when you cried,” she says. She stands up, and I slide down her body so that I’m wrapped around her leg.
    â€œTy, stop. It’s not