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Zusatztext "Warm! lively! true to children's real inner lives! and laugh-aloud funny all the way." Kirkus Reviews with Pointers Informationen zum Autor Lois Lowry is the author of more than fifty books for children and young adults, including the New York Times bestselling Giver Quartet and the popular Anastasia Krupnik series. She has received countless honors, among them the Boston Globe–Horn Book Award, the Dorothy Canfield Fisher Award, the California Young Reader Medal, and the Mark Twain Award. She received Newbery Medals for two of her novels, Number the Stars and The Giver . Klappentext Why won't Sam Krupnik allow his mother to enter his bedroom? Why has he started calling his toy box The Lab? And why does he carry a Ziplock bag in his pocket al all times? What's the big secret? Well, his mother's birthday is approaching, and she has told her family that what she really wants are homemade gifts. Sam has decided to invent a special, surprise perfume just for her--a concoction that will combine all of her favorite smells. Now the question is: Exactly how does one go about bottling the quirky collection of scents on Mrs. Krupnik's list of favorites? If anyone can find a way--or at least have loads of fun trying--it's Sam, Anastasia's precocious younger borther. 1 S*A*M What on earth are you doing, Sam?” Mrs. Krupnik stood in the doorway staring at her son. Sam looked up. Moms are sometimes very strange, he thought. They always ask what you are doing, even though they can see what you are doing. Once, when he was younger and naughtier, Sam had found it interesting to unroll toilet paper. He knew that he wasn’t supposed to. But every time he wandered past the bathroom and glanced in and saw that roll of paper hanging there, with its end dangling in a tantalizing way, he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He would have to go in and unroll it. If he got it going just right, he could twirl the roll around very fast, and the paper would go all over the floor, and it was wonderfully interesting to him. And always, whenever he did that, his mom would appear in the bathroom doorway and say, “Sam! What on earth are you doing?” He could never figure it out. What did she think he was doing—taking a bath? Brushing his teeth? Today, though, he wasn’t unrolling toilet paper. He was much too old to do a baby thing like that. Today he wasn’t even in the bathroom. He was in the study. His dad’s study. He looked over at his mother, who was still in the doorway. Then he said patiently, even though he was quite certain she knew exactly what he was doing, “I’m typing.” She came across the room and stood behind him, looking down over his shoulder. “My goodness,” she said. “You really are!” Good, she didn’t sound angry. She sounded surprised. Sam didn’t know why his mom would be surprised that he was typing. His father’s typewriter, here in the study, was a fascinating thing. And his dad had shown him, once, how you rolled in a piece of paper and then pushed the keys with letters on them. “I typed my name,” Sam told her with pride. And he had. sam sam sam He had made some mistakes, of course, since it was his first try at typing. One of his sams had come out sal and another said wam . But he was getting better at it. “Look,” he said. Very carefully, with his tongue wedged between his teeth, he typed mom . Then he rolled the paper a bit in order to start in a fresh place. “Attaboy, Sam!” his mother said. “You’re an absolutely amazing son!” Mrs. Krupnik pulled up a chair beside Sam and showed him all sorts of interesting t...
