Prudy’s Problem and How she Solved It
Prudy seemed like a normal little girl. She
had a sister. She had a dog. She had two
white mice. She had a mom and a dad and her
own room at home.
Yes, Prudy seemed normal.
But Prudy collected things.
Now most kids collect something. Prudy’s
friend Egbert collected butterflies. So did
Prudy. Belinda had a stamp collection. So
did Prudy. Harold collected tin foil and made
it into a big ball. So did Prudy. All her
friends had collections. And do did Prudy—
but Prudy collected everything.
She saved rocks, feathers, leaves, twigs, dead
bugs and old flowers. She kept a box full of
interesting fungi in the bottom drawer of her
dresser. She saved every picture she had ever
drawn, and ever valentine she had ever
gotten. She saved pretty paper napkins in her
desk drawer. She had six hundred and
fourteen stuffed animals in different
unnatural colors.
She had collections of ribbons, shoelaces,
souvenir postcards, flowered fabric scraps,
pencils with fancy ends, pink scarves with
orange polka dots, old calendars, salt and
pepper shakers with faces, dried-out erasers,
plastic lizards, pointy sunglasses, china
animals, heart-shaped candy boxes with the
paper candy cups still inside, tufts of hair
from different breeds of dogs…
She just could not throw anything away.
It drove her dad to distraction. He was a very
tidy person who did not like clutter. He
started saying unpleasant things as he tried to
mow the lawn. “Prudy, you have a problem,”
he said.
“What do you mean?” she asked, baffled.
“You just have too much stuff. Why don’t
we haul it all to the dump?” he suggested
hopefully.
“I don’t have too much stuff, Dad,” Prudy
said.
It even got to be too much for her mom, who
did not mind clutter but could no longer
navigate the living room.
“Maybe you could take all this to the thrift
shop,” she said. “Surely someone could use
this old mushroom…”
“I like that mushroom,” Prudy said.
“Prudy, you have to face your problem,” said
her mother.
“I do not have a problem,” said Prudy.
Prudy’s little sister started putting together
collections of her own.
“Uh-oh,” said Egbert, eyeing Evie’s little
piles of pine twigs and used toothbrushes.
“Prudy, how about if you packed everything
all up and stuffed it into a rocket and sent it to
Neptune?”
“Yeah, that would solve your problem!”
agreed Harold and Belinda.
“There is no problem!” shouted Prudy.
But Prudy herself found that she could barely
get to her desk to feed her mice.
She could not even get out of her room
without setting off an avalanche of one thing
to another.
And then one day while Prudy was walking
home from school, something shiny caught
Prudy seemed like a normal little girl. She
had a sister. She had a dog. She had two
white mice. She had a mom and a dad and her
own room at home.
Yes, Prudy seemed normal.
But Prudy collected things.
Now most kids collect something. Prudy’s
friend Egbert collected butterflies. So did
Prudy. Belinda had a stamp collection. So
did Prudy. Harold collected tin foil and made
it into a big ball. So did Prudy. All her
friends had collections. And do did Prudy—
but Prudy collected everything.
She saved rocks, feathers, leaves, twigs, dead
bugs and old flowers. She kept a box full of
interesting fungi in the bottom drawer of her
dresser. She saved every picture she had ever
drawn, and ever valentine she had ever
gotten. She saved pretty paper napkins in her
desk drawer. She had six hundred and
fourteen stuffed animals in different
unnatural colors.
She had collections of ribbons, shoelaces,
souvenir postcards, flowered fabric scraps,
pencils with fancy ends, pink scarves with
orange polka dots, old calendars, salt and
pepper shakers with faces, dried-out erasers,
plastic lizards, pointy sunglasses, china
animals, heart-shaped candy boxes with the
paper candy cups still inside, tufts of hair
from different breeds of dogs…
She just could not throw anything away.
It drove her dad to distraction. He was a very
tidy person who did not like clutter. He
started saying unpleasant things as he tried to
mow the lawn. “Prudy, you have a problem,”
he said.
“What do you mean?” she asked, baffled.
“You just have too much stuff. Why don’t
we haul it all to the dump?” he suggested
hopefully.
“I don’t have too much stuff, Dad,” Prudy
said.
It even got to be too much for her mom, who
did not mind clutter but could no longer
navigate the living room.
“Maybe you could take all this to the thrift
shop,” she said. “Surely someone could use
this old mushroom…”
“I like that mushroom,” Prudy said.
“Prudy, you have to face your problem,” said
her mother.
“I do not have a problem,” said Prudy.
Prudy’s little sister started putting together
collections of her own.
“Uh-oh,” said Egbert, eyeing Evie’s little
piles of pine twigs and used toothbrushes.
“Prudy, how about if you packed everything
all up and stuffed it into a rocket and sent it to
Neptune?”
“Yeah, that would solve your problem!”
agreed Harold and Belinda.
“There is no problem!” shouted Prudy.
But Prudy herself found that she could barely
get to her desk to feed her mice.
She could not even get out of her room
without setting off an avalanche of one thing
to another.
And then one day while Prudy was walking
home from school, something shiny caught
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