Iggy and Me and The Happy Birthday

Iggy and Me and The Happy Birthday
Jenny Valentine

The second in a series of young fiction by Jenny Valentine, winner of the Guardian Children’s Fiction Prize for her debut novel, Finding Violet Park.More funny and endearing family stories featuring the the irrepressible 5-year-old IGGY as seen through the eyes of her big sister Flo, the ME of the title.Whether learning to swim, or playing at home, going on a day trip or baking birthday cakes, Iggy and Flo add sparkle to everyday activities.Each chapter is a complete and satisfying story in its own right, perfect for newly-confident readers to enjoy alone, or for reading aloud at bedtime.Illustrated throughout in with black & white line drawings by Joe Berger, who was nominated for the Booktrust Early Years Award for his picture book, Bridget Fidget.

Iggy and Me and the Happy Birthday

Jenny Valentine

Table of Contents

Cover Page (#uc0901139-c32e-5cae-902a-029315e8e8db)

Title Page (#ud108413d-399d-5d77-a382-a9d22403a638)

Iggy the fish (#uea983509-006e-5258-b87d-9fe285349aff)

Iggy’s birthday list (#ua8edab5f-9bcf-5ba3-9c39-6107f975c9cb)

Poor Iggy (#u71a9c7aa-a8a5-585d-9388-dcc1c16970d7)

Iggy and the Snow Queen (#litres_trial_promo)

Iggy and the birthday cakes (#litres_trial_promo)

Happy birthday, Iggy! (#litres_trial_promo)

Iggy on wheels (#litres_trial_promo)

Iggy and the hamster (#litres_trial_promo)

About the author (#litres_trial_promo)

Also by Jenny Valentine (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Iggy the fish (#ulink_0c556aae-3357-5de6-b6af-076f2d4c1601)

My name is Flo and I have a little sister called Iggy.

Iggy was learning to swim. Dad said she was taking her time about it. This was because Iggy pretended to swim by walking about in the shallow end and doing all the right things with her arms.

“The top half has got it,” said Dad, “but somebody forgot to tell the legs.”

Iggy didn’t think her legs needed to be told.

“Look,” she said. “Swimming is easy.” And she hopped from one foot to the other and flapped her arms about.

Dad said she looked like a duck coming in to land.

Mum said, “Iggy, that isn’t swimming.”

“Yes it is,” Iggy said.

I was keeping out of it.

On the way home on the bus, Iggy was falling asleep. Dad said she was tired from all her underwater running.

“I’m not tired,” Iggy said, opening one eye and then closing it again. “And I wasn’t running.”

“What are we going to do with you?” said Mum. “How are we going to teach you to swim?”

“I can swim,” Iggy said.

“Half of you can,” Dad said. Iggy folded her arms and turned away.

“How did I learn to swim?” I said.

“We dropped you in the water when you were a baby,” Dad said.

Iggy sniggered and then pretended it was a snore.

“Dad!” I said. “That’s not very nice!”

“We didn’t drop you,” Mum said, elbowing Dad. “We were in the pool with you and we let you go.”

“Is that allowed?” I said.

Mum said, “We went to special classes. We didn’t just throw you in.”

Dad said that all babies knew how to swim if you just dunked them in and helped them to remember.

Mum said, “Babies are surrounded by water when they’re in the womb.”

I looked at Mum’s tummy. Iggy opened her eyes again.

“Why didn’t you do that to Iggy?” I said.

“We tried,” said Mum. “But she didn’t like it.”

“You didn’t like it,” said Dad.

“She was crying,” Mum said.

“Screaming,” said Dad.

“Iggy didn’t take to it like you, Flo,” said Mum. “You were a little fish.”