Free Ramona and Her Mother by Beverly Cleary Page A

the linen closet. “Not this time. I bought them on sale.” She handed Ramona a pair of white pajamas printed with colored balloons. They were so new they were still folded and pinned together.
    Ramona quickly pulled out the pins and changed from too-small pajamas into too-big pajamas. The sleeves covered her hands, the legs rumpled around her ankles, and the seat bagged, but oh, how soft and warm and cozy they felt, like the fur of a baby rabbit.
    â€œJust fold up the bottoms so you won’t trip,” said Mrs. Quimby. “They’ll shrink when they’re washed, and you’ll grow into them before you know it.”
    Ramona did as she was told and discovered that, now that her pajamas were no longer tight, she could stoop lower and jump higher. Twitching her nose, she became a rabbit once more and thump, thump, thumped down the hall to bed, where she snuggled down, warm and cozy as a little rabbit in a nest, in the pajamas that had never been worn by her sister.

    The next morning she awoke still feeling warm and cozy. She lay in bed, not wanting to take off the pajamas, they felt so good.
    â€œRamona, come along and eat your oatmeal while it’s still hot,” her mother called to her.
    Reluctantly Ramona got out of bed, dabbed a damp washcloth in the middle of her face, and, still in her pajamas, went to breakfast.
    â€œWhy, Ramona, you aren’t even dressed.” Mrs. Quimby, having finished her breakfast, was rinsing her dishes. Mr. Quimby and Beezus were carrying theirs to the sink.
    â€œDon’t worry, Mother,” said Ramona. “I’m not going to school in my pajamas.” As soon as she had spoken Ramona thought how pleasant it would be if she could go to school in her pajamas and feel the soft fuzz against her skin all day.
    â€œDon’t dawdle.” Mr. Quimby kissed the top of Ramona’s head and left for work. Ramona twitched her nose.
    Ramona quickly ate her oatmeal—this was easy because oatmeal did not require much chewing—and as she ate she thought about wearing her pajamas to school. Suddenly she recalled seeing the kindergarten class in their red plastic fire hats trooping back from a visit to the fire station, which made her think of her own visit to the firehouse when she was in kindergarten and how she had loved her fire hat. For days afterward, whenever she found even two newspapers piled together, she had called her parents’ attention to a fire hazard. She also recalled how astonished she had been to learn that firemen slept in their underwear so that they could jump out of bed and into their clothes if they were called out in the night. Of course, Ramona did not sleep in her underwear, but if she put her clothes on over her pajamas she could pretend to be a fireman anyway.
    As Ramona rinsed her dishes she stopped being a rabbit and became a fireman. She raced down the hall and pulled her slacks on over her pajama bottoms. Fortunately, she was not really on her way to fight a fire because she had a hard time stuffing the folded-up legs into her slacks. Then she jerked on her turtleneck sweater over the pajama top. The knitted neck and wristbands hid the flannel nicely. Ramona felt stuffed, but cozy and warm. She remembered to brush her teeth and was ready for school. Like a fireman she pulled on her boots, grabbed her raincoat and hat, and raced into the kitchen for her lunch box.
    â€œBye, Mother,” she called out as she ran out the back door.
    â€œWhere’s the fire?” her mother called after her.
    How did she guess? Ramona wondered as she ran toward school. Then she decided her mother had not really guessed because she often asked where the fire was when Ramona was in a hurry.
    A warm, misty spring rain was falling. Bits of green tipped the black branches of trees. Ramona slowed down to investigate crocus buds like tiny yellow and blue Easter eggs that were pushing up through a neighbor’s lawn. Then she ran