"Babysitters Club 020 Kristy And The Walking Disaster" - читать интересную книгу автора (Babysitters Club)

the middle of the three Rodowsky boys. Shea is nine, Archie is four, and Jackie is seven - and a walking disaster. He's just totally accident-prone. And he doesn't have little accidents like skinned knees. No, he's more apt to lock himself in the bathroom and then get his hand caught down the drain of the tub. I could understand why Dawn preferred not to sit for him.
"Schedule me for Tuesday," I told Mary Anne. Then I called Mrs. Rodowsky back to tell her that I would be sitting.
I had just hung up when the phone rang again. Then four more times. For quite awhile, all we could do was schedule jobs, although Claudia did manage to pass around the Cheese Doodles and little candy bars.
The meeting was almost over when Mary Anne suddenly said in a sort of strangled voice, "Uh, where's Tigger, you guys?"
We searched Claud's room from top to bottom. We found a bag of Doritos, a box of Mallomars, some Gummi Bears, and a package of Twinkles - but no Tigger.
Mary Anne was just beginning to get tearful when we heard someone say, "Perhaps you are looking for this."
Standing in Claud's doorway was her sister Janine, cradling Tigger. "I found him sitting
on my computer," she said. She was trying to look cross, but you could tell she wanted to smile.
Mary Anne greeted Tigger as if he'd been missing for a year or so, and then the meeting ended.
Jackie Rodowsky, 1 thought as Charlie drove me home. Would my afternoon with the walking disaster be fun ... or, well, a disaster?
Chapter 3.
"Hit it! ... Hit it! . . . No, hit - Oh, never mind," said Max Delaney crossly.
"Don't yell at me!" retorted his sister.
"Anyway, you never hit the ball," Karen accused Max.
Max stuck his tongue out at Karen, and Karen stuck hers out at Max.
It was Saturday, the day after our club meeting, and it was a gorgeous afternoon. I was baby-sitting for Karen, Andrew, and David Michael. We were in the backyard and a bunch of kids had come over to play softball ... or to try to play softball. Amanda and Max Delaney were there (Amanda is eight and Max is six), and Linny and Hannie Papadakis had come over, too. Linny is David Michael's good friend, and Hannie is one of Karen's best friends. The girls are in the same class at school.
The kids had a pretty pathetic game going. Most of them were old enough to be in Little
League or to play T-ball, but I could see why they hadn't bothered to join a team. They all worked and worked and worked - and nothing happened. I'd never seen so many kids play ball so hard with so few results.
Hannie really couldn't hit. She never connected with the ball. Max dropped or missed every ball he tried to catch. David Michael was simply a klutz. He tripped over his feet, the bat, even the ball, and no matter how he concentrated, he somehow never did anything right, except pitch. Karen wasn't a bad hitter. And Andrew might have been a good catcher if he weren't so little, but he's only four, so balls went sailing over him right and left, even when he stretched for them. Amanda and Linnie were no better than the others.
"You guys," I said to the kids, "come over here for a sec, and let me help you get organized. I'll give you some pointers, too, okay?" (I happen to like sports a lot.)
Karen, Andrew, David Michael, Hannie, Linny, Max, and Amanda dropped their gloves, bats, and the ball. They gathered around me.
"First of all," I said, "Hannie, it helps to watch the ball when you're trying to hit it. Don't look away from it, even to look at your bat."
"Yeah," said David Michael knowingly, as
if I hadn't just told him the same thing the day before.
"And Max, the trick for holding onto the ball after you catch it is to close your glove around it right away. Otherwise, the ball will fall out. And keep your eye on the ball when you're trying to catch it, just like when you're trying to hit it. Don't look at your mitt or the batter. Got it?"
The kids nodded.
Then Andrew said, "What about me? I could catch those balls if I were taller."
"I know you could," I replied. "So let's work on your hitting and pitching instead. The only way to make you taller is to give you stilts. Or else hold up this game for a year or two while you grow."
Andrew giggled.
I divided the kids into teams - the four younger kids versus the three older ones. "Now!" I cried. "Let's play ball!"
David Michael pitched to Hannie. Hannie swung her bat. She missed the ball by about two feet. Three times. He pitched to Karen. Karen hit the ball. Smack! It sailed right to Amanda, who appeared to be looking at the ball - until just before it reached her glove. Then she glanced at her glove to see how things were going. The ball flew over her head.
Everyone groaned. Even Karen, who was running bases.
I gathered the kids around me again. "We're going to stop the game," I announced, "and have a softball clinic instead."
"Clinic?" repeated Amanda nervously. "You mean, like a hospital?"
"No. No, I mean when 1 work with each of you on your weak points - the stuff you need help with. I'll be your coach and trainer."
The kids looked excited. And David Michael said, "If I were in Little League, there'd be a coach to help me all the time."
"You should join," 1 told him. "The rest of you should, too. Or play T-ball."
"I can't," said Andrew. "I'm not old enough."
"I can't either," said Karen and Hannie.
"Why not?" 1 asked. "Girls can play."
"Yeah," said Karen, "but no one would want
me."
"Or me," said Hannie.
"Or me," said Linny, David Michael, and Max.
"1 don't want to join," announced Amanda. "I don't like playing ball that much."
"Well, the rest of us do," said Hannie, who does not get along with Amanda and probably never will.
"We want to be on a team," added David
Michael. "We just don't want to embarrass ourselves."
"No Little League?" I asked, knowing what the answer would be.
"Nope," he replied, and the other kids agreed with him.