The Manny Files (Manny Files Series)

The Manny Files (Manny Files Series)

by Christian Burch
The Manny Files (Manny Files Series)

The Manny Files (Manny Files Series)

by Christian Burch


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Manny /ma·ne/ n
A male nanny or babysitter, known to be handsome,
fabulous, and a lover of eighties music.

"Be interesting."

That's what the manny tells Keats Dalinger the first time he packs Keats's school lunch, but for Keats that's not always the easiest thing to do. Even though he's the only boy at home, it always feels like no one ever remembers him. His sisters are everywhere! Lulu is the smart one, India is the creative one, and Belly...well, Belly is the naked one. And the baby. School isn't much better. There, he's the shortest kid in the entire class.

But now the manny is the Dalinger's new babysitter, and things are starting to look up. It seems as though the manny always knows the right thing to do. Not everyone likes the manny as much as Keats does, however. Lulu finds the manny embarrassing, and she's started to make a list of all the crazy things that he does, such as serenading the kids with "La Cucaracha" from the front yard or wearing underwear on his head or meeting the school bus with Belly, dressed as limo drivers. Keats is worried. What if Lulu's "Manny Files" makes his parents fire the manny? Who will teach him how to be interesting then?

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781416955344
Publisher: Aladdin
Publication date: 04/22/2008
Series: Mix Series
Edition description: Reprint
Pages: 304
Sales rank: 988,808
Product dimensions: 5.12(w) x 7.62(h) x 1.00(d)
Lexile: 800L (what's this?)
Age Range: 9 - 12 Years

About the Author

Christian Burch is a real-life manny who derived much of his inspiration for his novels from his charges. A resident of Jackson, Wyoming, he is the author of The Manny Files and Hit the Road, Manny.

Read an Excerpt

Chapter 1: . . . And Wished I Were an Only Child

You probably won't remember it later, but my name is Keats. I'm the smallest boy in my class. Actually, it's worse than that. I'm the smallest person in my grade. My third-grade teacher never calls on me for answers because she can't see me. I sit behind a tall girl with red poofy hair.

I wish I had red poofy hair.

My hair is the same color as dead grass in November.

My teacher is named Ms. Grant. Ms. Grant is from the South and says things like "y'all" and "fixin' to." My older sister Lulu was in her class a few years ago. Whenever we have to write a book report or do an art project, Ms. Grant shows us one of Lulu's old assignments as an example. When we made snowflakes to hang from the ceiling, she pulled one out from her closet that was covered in colorful sequins and battery-operated Christmas lights. Ms. Grant said, "Y'all, this was made by Keats's older sister," as she pointed to Lulu's school picture on her bulletin board.

The girl with the red poofy hair raised her hand and asked, "Who's Keats?"

I wasn't looking where I was cutting and cut myself with the scissors.

I had to go to the school nurse to get a Big Bird Band-Aid.

Lulu is president of the seventh-grade class. Mom calls her an overachiever. Lulu hates the sound of some words, like saliva. I made her cry once by writing the words panty hose on her math homework. One Halloween she used mascara to paint her eyebrows together, and put on a colorful dress that Mom bought for her in Mexico. She made a heart out of clay and carried it around. She said that she was Frida Kahlo, the tragic Mexican painter. I dressed up as a television news anchor. Instead of saying "Trick or treat," I said, "Our top story tonight: Children across America dress up in elaborate costumes in hopes of receiving handfuls of treats. More on this story after you give me some candy." Nobody knew what I was supposed to be.

My other older sister, India, usually dresses up as a butterfly for Halloween. In fact, most of the time she looks like a butterfly. She wears bright, rainbow-striped tights and flashy hair bows. She's the only girl at our school who carries a purse instead of a backpack. At the last parent-teacher conference her fourth-grade teacher told Mom and Dad that when she had asked India what she wanted to be when she grew up, India's response was, "I'm just going to get by on my looks." Dad laughed and Mom kicked him underneath the table. Dad thinks that India is going to be a brilliant clothing designer someday.

Dad says the word brilliant a lot.

India has a sign on her bedroom door that says, DO NOT ENTER. THIS MEANS YOU, BELLY. Belly is my three-year-old baby sister, whose real name is Mirabelle. We call her Belly because she hates to wear clothes. One time my mom took Belly and me to the mall to buy me the bow tie that I wanted for my birthday. It was silk with yellow and blue stripes and looked exactly like the one that I had circled in the catalog. When we were inside the mall, Belly screamed with glee and ran to the fountain that was filled with glittering pennies on the bottom. I used to scream and run to the fountain when I was littler, but now I just racewalk. My mom dug through her purse for a penny so that I could toss it in and make a secret wish. While Mom was struggling to find a penny, Belly stripped naked and, before we could stop her, was stealing other people's wishes from the middle of the fountain. The grandmothers who were walking laps around the mall pointed and laughed at my sister's bare bottom bobbing up and down as she looked for pennies.

Mom grabbed Belly from the fountain and said, "You're crazy," like what she had done was cute.

I threw my penny in the fountain and wished I were an only child. Copyright ©2006 by Christian Burch

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