Ann Martin - Mary Anne And Too Many Babies

The Papadakis kids are good friends of Kristy's younger brothers and sisters. Linny, who's nine, plays with David Michael. Han-nie, who's seven, is one of Karen's two best friends. And Sari, the little one, sometimes plays with Emily. Kristy and the kids are pals. So Kristy decided that her first order of babysitting business should be to explain Izzy to them.

As Mrs. Papadakis backed down the drive-

way, Kristy sat at the kitchen table with Linny and Hannie. Sari, who had just woken up from a nap, was sitting sleepily in her high chair.

Kristy placed Izzy's environment on the table. She pointed to her son. "This," she said, "is Izzy Thomas-Gray."

"That egg?" replied Linny, after a moment's hesitation.

"Well, yes," answered Kristy. "Only he isn't — "

"He?" interrupted Linny.

" — he isn't just an egg," Kristy continued. "He's my son."

"You mean your pretend son . . . don't you?" asked Hannie. She peered into the shoe box and stared at Izzy.

"Well, yes. My pretend son," Kristy agreed. Then she tried to explain Mrs. Boy den's Modern Living project to the kids.

"Okay, so you're pretend-married," said Linny, "and this egg is your pretend son. And you're baby-sitting for him, plus us. Right?"

"Right."

"Where is Izzy's food?" asked Hannie.

"The food is pretend, too," Kristy answered. "I just have to spend time with Izzy as if I were feeding him. Kind of like when you play with your dolls. You don't give them real food. Only with Izzy I have to remember

to feed him every day, as often as — "

Ring, ring!

Linny bounded to his feet and made a grab for the phone. "I'll get it!" he cried. He picked up the receiver and said politely, "Hello, Pa-padakises' residence. Who's calling, please? ... For Kristy? . . . Okay." Linny held the phone toward Kristy. "For you. I think it's your pretend husband."

"Hello?" said Kristy. "Alan? What's up?"

"I'm just checking on Izzy," he replied. "I was sitting here thinking about him, and . . . Is everything okay?"

"Oh, sure. Fine. Izzy's napping."

"Napping? Shouldn't he be eating? I don't think he eats enough. We don't want him to get scrawny."

"Alan, trust me. He's fine," said Kristy. "Um, except for — "

"WHAT?" exclaimed Alan. "Except for what?"

"He seems kind of nervous here."

"I thought he was asleep."

"He is now. But when we first got to the Papadakises', he was really shy."

"Well, you know, new faces."

"Yeah, but I'm concerned that he's not socializing right."

Kristy and Alan discussed Izzy's social development. They talked for quite awhile. They

talked for so long that the kids becames bored, and Linny lifted Sari out of her high chair, nudged Kristy, and whipered loudly, "We're going to the playroom."

"Okay," Kristy answered distractedly. Ten minutes later, she finished her conversation with Alan, hung up the phone, and headed for the kids' playroom. Halfway there she realized she was without Izzy, and she dashed back to the kitchen. The table was empty. Had Izzy been in the kitchen when Kristy finished her phone conversation? She couldn't remember. She glanced around the room, decided he wasn't in it, and headed for the playroom again, calling, "Linny? Hannie?"

"Yeah?" Linny called back.

"Do you have Izzy?"

"Huh?"

"I said, 'Do you have Izzy?' " By then, Kristy had reached the playroom. The first thing she saw was Izzy's environment. The box was on Hannie's small coloring table. "Never mind," said Kristy. She ran for the box.

It was empty.

I mean, it was empty of Izzy. Everything else was there — the flannel, the cell-stimulating pictures, the music box. Only Izzy was missing.

"Where is he? Where's Izzy?" cried Kristy with a gasp.

"Hey, funny!" exclaimed Linny. "Good joke. Get it? Where is he? Where's Izzy?" He laughed loudly.

Hannie began to laugh, too. "Where Izzy? Where Izzy?" she sang.

Even Sari laughed and joined in.

"This isn't funny, you guys," said Kristy, her heart pounding. "Izzy is like my baby. Remember? I'm responsible for him. Who brought his box in here? Linny?"

Linny's smile had faded. "Yeah, I did," he answered. "You were busy talking on the phone, and I thought Izzy might want to see the playroom."

"Okay." Kristy tried to calm down. "You brought his box in here? Then what? Did you take Izzy out of it?"

"Very, very gently," Hannie answered for her brother. Then she added, "Very gently. Honest. Cross my heart."

"I believe you," said Kristy. "Just tell me where you put Izzy."

Hannie frowned. She looked at Linny, who was frowning, too. "Linny was holding onto Izzy tightly and he walked — "

"How tightly?" Kristy interrupted.

"Not that tightly," said Linny.

"Linny showed Izzy around the playroom," Hannie continued. "He showed him the bookshelf and Sari's rocking horse and the art cupboard and the trucks and cars, and then ..."

"Yeah?" prompted Kristy.

"I think he stopped to look at his collection of bottle caps."

"Oh, that's right," agreed Linny. "So I put Izzy on the floor and, um, that's all I remember. Until you came in."

"Everybody, spread out and search!" yelped Kristy.

"Hmm. If I were an egg, where would I go?" muttered Linny.

"How about the refrigerator?" suggested Hannie.

She and Linny got the giggles. While Kristy tossed aside books and toys and sweaters, looking for her missing son, Hannie and Linny cracked jokes and laughed helplessly.

"Maybe Izzy is off looking for Humpty Dumpty," said Hannie.

"Egg-sactly!" cried Linny. "Or maybe he had a great fall."

"Egg-cellent," said Hannie.

"I hope nobody found Izzy and then . . . cooked him and ate him," added Linny. "That would set a bad egg-zample."

By that time, Kristy was no longer listening to Hannie and Linny. "Come on, Sari. You'll

help me, won't — Hey, Sari, what are you doing?" Kristy knelt beside Sari, who was squatting on the floor. At her feet was a doll's blanket. Sari was patting it and saying, "Baby, baby."

Kristy poked the blanket. Then she pulled at it. Inside was Izzy. "Oh, thank heaven! You're safe!" cried Kristy. "It's okay, Linny, Hannie. I found him. Guess what. Sari was taking care of Izzy for us."

"Darn. No more egg-citement," said Linny.

Even Kristy couldn't help laughing. "Linny!" she exclaimed.

"Sorry," he said. "It's just... I don't know. Your son? An egg named Izzy? I never heard of anything like that."

"Egg-straordinary, isn't it?" said Kristy. And then she replaced Izzy in his safe environment.

She decided not to tell Alan what had happened.

Chapter 7.

Our daughter had a name. She went without one for four days while Logan and I argued over what to call her. I was holding out for Tara, but Logan didn't like the name. He wanted to call her Sally, which I thought was much too plain. Finally we compromised.

We named our child Samantha.

I thought Samantha was almost as beautiful as Tara, and that Sammie was an adorable nickname. Logan liked Sammie, too, because it sounded like Sally.

We fixed a wicker basket for Sammie and lined it with scraps of pink fabric. The day we had been given Sammie, we had painted pink flowers on her with food coloring. The day we named her, we added this:

"Now we'll always be able to recognize her," said Logan.

"And she's beautiful," I added. "Our beautiful daughter."

As soon as Sammie's basket was prepared, Logan took on more than his share of the work in caring for our daughter. He took her home with him almost every afternoon. He carried her around school as often as possible.

He was a natural father.

Of course, he couldn't care for Sammie all the time, though. And one morning he met me in school, basket in hand, and said, "Just as I was leaving the house, Hunter reminded me that I promised to take him and Kerry to the playground this afternoon. I'm worried about taking Sammie with me. I don't want her to get too much sun."