Teachers, librarians, booksellers, and bloggers who’ve helped my books find new homes also deserve heaps of thank-you farts. You’re the ones making the real magic happen, and I’m honored you’d let any of my stories be part of your world.
Writing about seven kids who grew up in a magical swamp took me back home again. It reminded me of lazy days chasing butterflies and of the sound of willow tree branches clicking in the wind and of reading books on the back porch. And so, of course, I thought of the cousins and siblings I got to share those days with: especially Chase,33 Melanie, and Michelle. They made every problem a wondrous adventure. Thanks for reminding me to stay wild inside my heart. I’m also forever indebted to my parents, Jim and Elaine, and to Bridgett, Ed, Erin, and Andy for giving me so much love and story-fodder, and for the new families I’ve added to my life this year: the Longs, the Owensbys, the Manleys, the Seiferts, and the Dukes.
And I’m grateful to and for Justin, who is my best friend but better. You’re more awesome than any story I could have imagined, and I love you.
I’m thankful to God for the wild, wonderful love of family and for new days full of new stories.
And I want to thank you, my fellow swamp flowers. Young readers often ask me about my favorite part of being an author. Making up stories is one part. Meeting young readers is a big part too. It’s the heart part. Thank you for being brave enough to see the world heart-first, and for inspiring me to do the same. I hope you never forget how awesome you are. (And never forget: every day is a good day for a taco!)
Excerpt from The Problim Children #2: A Formidable Foe
Ears up, buttercups!
Adventure’s afoot.
Don’t miss the second
TOOT-TACULAR tale of
Everyone should have known better, really. The sky had gurgled storm warnings all morning long. But people still thought they had plenty of time to run to the store, the park, or the donut shop. Out for coffee, hot yoga, and cold yoga all before another storm settled over town.
They were wrong.
And most everyone was utterly miserable about the wild weather except for two girls presently riding their bicycles down the sidewalk.
“Another puddle! GLORY!” Sundae Problim veered for a deep, muddy mess on the street, sliced through the middle and squealed as muck slopped up all over her jeans and shoes. She howled with happy laughter.
Her younger sister Mona Problim kicked along nearby on a scooter. She rolled her eyes at Sundae’s latest nature exclamation: GLORY. That was Sundae’s new thing; she shouted the word all the time these days. Mona quietly enjoyed the satisfying swish of her tires through the mud puddle, and the way the mud felt when it speckled her arms. So refreshing.
“Rain is my favorite weather,” Mona called out. “Nothing like a nice, long walk in a thunderstorm.”
The girls zoomed their bike (plus scooter) to a stop in front of the Good Donuts shop. The neon-pink “Open” sign seemed to flicker extra brightly against the darkening sky. Sundae skipped toward the entry. But Dorothy, the owner, met them at the door with her hands on her hips.
“STOP,” Dorothy commanded. “Wipe your paws before you come into my shop.” She pointed to the mat, then to a sign affixed to the building beside the door. “See here? No mud. No mess. No cell phones.”
Sundae blinked. “I understand not wanting cell phones. But . . . mud is nature’s love letter to all of us. Why not bring some of the joy of nature indoors?”
As Sundae began telling Dorothy about all the creatures who loved mud, Mona shimmied past her sister and into the bakery. The room smelled like warm cinnamon. Coffee sputtered from a machine in the corner. In the back of the room, fresh donuts zoomed off one conveyer belt, plopping down onto another. Then each one passed underneath a waterfall of white icing. Rrrrr . . . Now it was Mona’s stomach rumbling, just as loud as the morning storm-sky.
Mona slid into a corner table beside her siblings. She wished she’d brought some circus spiders with her, to sneak one donut off the line. Not that her brother would let that happen. Wendell Problim stood guard over the donuts, wearing his new green apron and hairnet. He watched every circle of deliciousness roll past, counting each one, making sure they were iced appropriately. He’d been an intern at Good Donuts for a week now, and Sal had already helped him design a new, speedy conveyer belt. The Turbo-Dough. Wendell’s first job was counting inventory but he hoped to work his way up to Apprentice Decorator.
Mona couldn’t wait until Wendell had access to the fryer, because that meant she’d have access too. She’d already thought about how many things she would like to deep fry. A boot. A book. One of Sal’s plants. Maybe a spider.
Something bit Mona’s thumb. Hard. A tiny, blue-legged circus spider glared up at her.
“I was kidding,” she whispered. And then she grinned. “In fact, I’m so glad you’re here. See that donut over there . . . ?”
“We’ll figure it out,” Sal said. “And then once it’s together, we’ll see where it leads us. If it leads us. Wendell says a water witch—this kind of twig—will pull you along to the place you need to go.” Then he lowered his voice. “And I still think it will go somewhere magical.”
“That’s quite a hypothesis,” Mona said, sitting taller to check the progress of the donut heist. One donut did appear to be magically crawling off the conveyer belt.
“How do we keep the spider lady from finding it first?” Thea asked. “And remember what Matilda said about Old Mr. O’Pinion? I think we need to find him. He sounds like the worst villain of all. If he finds it first . . .”
WHAP!!!
Bertha, owner of the donut shop next door, slammed a newspaper down on the table. “Kiddos! Have you seen this?”
Lost Cove Corn Dog Festival!
Who will brave the pirates’ caverns?
Who will bake the year’s prized pie?
Who will be crowned Little Miss Corn Dog?
“A p-pie competition!” Wendell said, startling them all.
Bertha nodded. “I do hope the rain stops before the festival kicks off.”
The children all turned toward the sound of a happy “arf!” Biscuit, Violet O’Pinion’s faithful dog, bounded into the room and shook the rain from her hair.
“No mud!” Dorothy said to the little pooch. But Biscuit ignored her. She pounced into Thea’s arms. Sal reached for a tiny scroll attached to the collar around Biscuit’s neck.
Come quickly!
I found something!
Bring me a donut.
—Violet
“Problims, pile up!” Sundae shouted. And then she sweetly added, “Where is Tootykins?”
About the Author
Courtesy Natalie Lloyd
NATALIE LLOYD was born on a Monday (but she’s a Thursday girl at heart). She loves writing stories full of magic, friendship, and the occasional toot, including A Snicker of Magic, which was a New York Times bestseller. She lives in Chattanooga, Tennessee, with her husband, Justin, and their dogs, Biscuit and Samson.
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Credits
Cover art © 2018 by Júlia Sardà
Cover design by Andrea Vandergrift
Copyright
Katherine Tegen Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
THE PROBLIM CHILDREN. Text and illustrations copyright © 2018 by HarperCollins Publishers. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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EPub Edition © January 2018 ISBN 9780062428233
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1 #4: The Stink of Dread: A fart born of anxiety, foretelling a terrible event. Smells faintly of rotten eggs and vomit.
2 #17: The Pompous Fart: Means: I told you so. Smells like a clogged garbage disposal, plus the faintest trace of lemon.
3 #40: The Jouster: A trumpetous rally Toot toots when riding Ichabod. Smells faintly of smoke and rotten fruit.
4 #211: The Motto Fart: A flatulent trumpet of declaration embracing Toot’s life philosophy: fart loudly and proudly and be brave and courageous.
5 #97: Problim Malfunction: A toot used to insinuate someone is acting unusual, even by Problim standards. Smells like burned hair.
6 #104: The Questioner: A fart demanding further explanation of a topic. Contains notes of spoiled milk and honeysuckle.
7 #200: The Toot of Intrigue: A faint, lingering aroma that helps Toot concentrate on unusual, yet enticing, bits of information. Smells like old books, cheese, and dust.
8 #35: The Fart of the Four Winds: The flatulent rally of a true adventure. Contains bold notes of dead fish in the ocean and chicken litter in a wide-open field.
9 #58: The Roving Wanderer: Happens when in transit. Smells like roadkill.
10 #124: The Joyful, Joyful: Simple flatulence of happiness. Smells like a week-old bouquet of daisies.
11 #165: The Propanetankerous: Smells a bit like a gas leak, but more subtle and refined. Means: PAY ATTENTION TO ME.
12 #2: The Hangry Puff: A warning Toot fires to remind his family that if he doesn’t eat soon his mood will quickly sour. Smells like takeout food forgotten in a car overnight.
13 #217: The Shockfart: A flatulation of sudden elation, shock, or surprise. Smells like wet dog food mixed with applesauce.
14 #78: The Peace Keeper: A toot reminiscent of steamy cow poo in a sunlit field. Meant to be calming but is actually rancid.
15 #124: The Joyful, Joyful: Simple flatulence of happiness. Smells like a week-old bouquet of daisies.
16 #45: The Braveheart Fart: The toot used by Toot to summon his courage and drive fear into his enemies’ hearts. Smells like moldy cheese and sweaty victory.
17 #213: The Welcome Fart: This toot begins with the subtle smell of pineapple but ends on a note of sauerkraut.
18 #227: The Hushfart: Softer sounding than a referee’s whistle, but still shrill. Smells like gym class. Means: be quiet!
19 #47: The Defensive-Offensive: A toot used by Toot that creates an invisible, yet rancid, cloud of protection around those he loves.
20 #173: The Appreciation Flatulation: A soft, graceful puff of wind that means: thank you. Smells like toe jam and strawberry jam mixed together.
21 #227: The Hushfart: Softer sounding than a referee’s whistle, but still shrill. Smells like dirty clothes. Means: be quiet!
22 #6: The Paul Revere: A trumpetous fart of warning. One toot if by land. Two toots if by sea. Smells of cruciferous vegetables.
23 #6: The Paul Revere: A trumpetous fart of warning. One toot if by land. Two toots if by sea. Smells of cruciferous vegetables.
24 #297: The Violent but Deadly: Toot Problim’s worst contribution to the atmosphere by far, this particular toot contains notes of sewage and skunk spray and can linger for up to two hours.
25 #14: The Bon Appétit: Mellow smell of the kitchen after cooking stinky fish. Released when Toot is ready to enjoy a delicious meal.
26 #104: The Questioner: A fart demanding further explanation of a topic. Contains notes of spoiled milk and honeysuckle.
27 #6: The Paul Revere: A trumpetous fart of warning. One toot if by land. Two toots if by sea. Smells of cruciferous vegetables.
28 #1: The I-Want-My-Mommy Fart: Smells like spoiled milk and mashed bananas. Toot’s most desperate plea in times of deepest distress.
29 #115: The Confetti Fart: Makes a high-pitched trumpet sound. Released to mark a moment of celebration. Smells like rotten potatoes.
30 #6: The Paul Revere: A trumpetous fart of warning. One toot if by land. Two toots if by sea. Smells of cruciferous vegetables.
31 #47: The Defensive-Offensive: A toot used by Toot that creates an invisible, yet rancid, cloud of protection around those he loves.
32 #124: The Joyful, Joyful: Simple flatulence of happiness. Smells like a week-old bouquet of daisies.
33 Various toots throughout this book may or may not have been inspired by this individual. If you have a brother, you understand.
The Problim Children Page 16