Here’s a FREE preview of my chapter book Patty Cakes and the Stolen Ball! Hope you enjoy reading it with a child, and thanks for stopping by!
Hi! I’m Patty. My full name is Patricia M. Lowry.
I hope we become friends! Here’s some stuff you’ll probably want to
know about me. I’m seven. I’m in second grade.
And most people call me Patty.
My parents nicknamed me Patty Cakes.
They even sing the rhyme with my name Patty
Cakes, Patty Cakes, Baker’s man! I roll my eyes
every time they sing it. I don’t even like cake.
And I definitely don’t look like cake. I look
tall. That’s because I am. I have long blond hair.
My daddy says my eyes are sky blue. I look like
I have a golden retriever named Bones.
That’s because he hardly ever eats much. He’s
a good boy.
I have a little sister named Emma. She is
two. People say she is a charm.
She looks like Daddy. She has brown curly
hair. Her brown eyes look like yummy chocolate.
She loves to dance in our kitchen. She spins
and spins in circles until she gets all dizzy. Then
she giggles. Sometimes she falls down.
Want to know something else about me?
I have an identical twin sister! That means
she looks—just—like—me. And she looks like
our mom, too.
My sister’s name is Penelope. Most people
call her Penny.
We are Patty and Penny. My name comes
first. I was born before her, by at least two
minutes! That’s pretty important stuff when
you’re a twin.
Everybody thinks it’s so cute that we are
twins. Sometimes I think it’s a pain.
My daddy understands. That’s because he’s
a twin, too.
People say Penny is lovely. She never gets in
When they look at me, they pat me on top of
my head and say, “Don’t worry, honey, you’re
I think they call me honey because somehow
trouble finds me a lot of the time. I guess me and
trouble have become pretty good friends.
That’s not so great. Because when trouble
happens, everybody says in a real loud and
accusing tone, “Patricia!”
My mom usually says, “Honey, I think you
got yourself in a pickle.”
That’s what happened to me one day. I got
accused of trouble. My older brother lost his
lacrosse ball. That’s right, I have a brother.
That’s probably important, too.
My brother’s name is Thomas. People say he
looks like a mix between Mommy and Daddy.
That’s because his hair is straight and blond like
Mommy’s, but his eyes are brown like Daddy’s.
He’s twelve. All he ever talks about is sports,
sports, sports. He is in love with every sport, I
swear, but not the bad kind of swearing. I only
mean that he really loves sports.
Well, his all-time, bestest, most favorite
lacrosse ball ever got lost.
It was signed by some famous guy. I don’t
even remember the guy’s name. I don’t care
much about lacrosse. But, boy, was Thomas
And who do you think got blamed for it?
That’s right. Me!
“Who took it?” Thomas asked.
He stormed out of his room all huffy. His
blond hair was all sticky-uppy. His brown eyes
looked darker and scarier than usual.
It was right after school on a Monday. And
my day had already been filled with loads of
stress. My best friend in the whole wide world,
named Hope, was not at school. That means
recess was way lonelier than usual.
Thomas looked at me with that finger of his
shaking in my face.
I spit my tongue right out at him.
“Not me!” I yelled. “I didn’t take your ball!”
I didn’t want to deal with his issues. When
we have fights, our mom always says we have
to take care of our “issues.” We need peace in
Thomas put his hand on his hip and said all
rude like, “It’s always you, Patricia. Whenever
there’s trouble, it’s because of you.”
I had my fist up ready to give him a good
hard punch right in his arm when Mom walked
“What’s going on?” she asked real serious.
“Patricia stole my lacrosse ball. And she
won’t give it back,” Thomas said.
“Did not!” I yelled.
“Did too!” he yelled back.
“Stop it, both of you,” Mom said just loud
enough for us to hear.
Her blue eyes twinkled like stars. She looked
at us like she thought we were funny.
“This isn’t a joke, Mother,” I said. “I don’t
like being blamed for something I didn’t do.”
“Well, honey, do you know where the ball
is?” Mom asked me real sweet. I love it when
Mom talks to me in her sweet voice. It makes
me happy. But did you notice? She called me
“How would I know, Mother. I don’t like
lacrosse,” I said back in my sweet voice.
Then Mom looked straight at Thomas.
“I don’t think she took it. Why don’t we all
help you try to find it? Okay?” she said to that
brother of mine.
Then Thomas gave me his mean squinty-eye
look. He looked back at Mom. “Sure. Thanks,
Mom,” he said.
Then do you want to know what happened
next? We looked and looked for that ball.
We looked again.
And then we looked some more.
And guess what?
We never found it!