All About Sam Read Online Free PDF Page B

floor. I'll show you in a minute. Look here, down the hall. Here's where Mom and Dad will be."
    Sam peeked in. He could see that their big bed was already set up. But there was enough room. His bed would fit right beside it. He tugged on Anastasia's jeans.
    "I want my bed here, too," he said.
    She knelt beside him. "Don't you want your own room?" she asked.
    "No," said Sam.
    Mrs. Krupnik appeared in the doorway. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Don't you like your room, Sam?"
    "No," Sam said.
    "Don't you like our new house?"
    "No," Sam said.
    Mrs. Krupnik sighed. "Anastasia," she said, "I can see that the Terrible Twos are still with us."
    Sam looked around nervously. He listened. He could hear a door slam downstairs. He could hear the moving men bumping around with furniture. He could hear his dad's voice, telling them where to put things.
    But he couldn't see or hear the Terrible Twos anywhere.
    Anastasia pried open the lid of a large cardboard box. "It's going to take us all summer to unpack, Mom," she said. "Look, Sam! It's your trucks!"
    Sam looked. His sister lifted out his blue tow truck and put it on the floor. Next came his bright yellow tractor.
    "Is my steam shovel there?" he asked. "And my crane? And my front-end loader?"
    Anastasia nodded. "All here. Hey, Sam, I have an idea. Let's dump out all the trucks, and then we'll put the big empty box on its side, to make a garage—down the hall, in your room—and then we can drive the trucks down to their garage, one by one."
    "Yeah!" Sam said. "Let's!"
    Anastasia set up the cardboard garage in the big blue bedroom down the hall. Then she, and Sam, and Mrs. Krupnik all got onto their hands and knees.
    "Rrrrrrrrrr," they all said, and began pushing trucks across the bare floors and down the long hall.
    Sam's father came up the stairs and stood there watching.
    "You can do the fire engine if you want, Dad," Sam said.
    So Dr. Krupnik got onto his hands and knees and made a siren noise as he pushed the red fire engine slowly down the hall.
    A moving man came to the top of the stairs and watched, wiping the sweat from his forehead, as the Krupnik family crawled in a line along the hall floor.
    "Can I do one?" the moving man asked.
    "Take the dump truck," Sam directed, and the moving man began to crawl and say "Rrrrrrrrrr," also.

    Another moving man came up the stairs, looked, laughed, and then got down on his hands and knees with the police rescue vehicle.
    The third moving man appeared, looking puzzled, with a can of Pepsi in his hand. He stared at them for a moment. Then he shrugged, put the Pepsi down on the top step, and got himself a truck. He chose the big gray steam shovel. He made it say "Clankety-clank" as he drove it down the hall at the end of the procession.
    There were seven people now, crawling slowly down the hall, pushing trucks and making engine and siren noises.
    Finally they were all in Sam's big new bedroom: Sam, and his mom and dad, and Anastasia, and all three moving men, sitting on the floor surrounded by trucks.
    "Well," said one of the moving men, the one with the tattoo dragon, "next we'll set up your bed, Sam. Right here against this wall be okay?"
    Sam looked at the wall where the man was pointing. A few minutes ago the room had looked scary. It had looked too big and too empty and too far away from all the people in his family.
    But now, all of a sudden, it looked okay. Now his trucks were lined up on the floor, waiting to drive into the cardboard box garage. Now there was another, unopened box under the window, and he knew what was in it: his blocks. Soon they would bring up his bookcase and the box that held all of his books.
    Sam nodded. "Okay," he said to the moving man with the dragon. "You can put my bed right there."
    The three moving men got to their feet and headed for the stairs.
    "It's not a crib!" Sam called after them, just in case they might have the wrong idea, might think he was still a baby. "It's a
bed
! A real