Judy Blume Quotes

“I looked at him and thought about having to go through it all over again. The kicking and the screaming and the messes and more – much more. I felt so angry that I kicked the wall.”

“Soon, instead of calling her The Baby, Mom started saying dumb things, like ‘How’s my little Tootsie-Wootsie?’ as if The Baby could answer her.”

″‘Where is Pee-tah going?’ Fudge asked. ‘I’m running away,’ I told him. ‘But I’ll come back to visit. Someday.‘”

″‘We’re going to have a baby.’ Mom said. ‘We’re going to what?’ I asked, starting to choke.”

″‘There’s nothing wrong with him!’ I said. ‘My mother calls him Fudge. My father calls him Fudge. My grandmother calls him Fudge. His friends call him Fudge. My friends call him Fudge. I call him Fudge. He calls himself Fudge...‘”

“Life was going along okay when my mother and father dropped the news. Bam! Just like that.”

″‘If only I knew for sure what the baby will be like’, I said. ‘Take a chance Peter,’ Dad said. ‘The baby won’t necessarily be anything like Fudge.’ ‘But it won’t necessarily not be anything like him either,’ I answered.”

“What was Sheila Tubman talking about? I looked the same as always. And why did she think Tootsie was lucky not to look like me? Unless it was my ears. Lately, they seemed too big.”

″‘Do you love me mommy?’ ‘Yes, very much.’ ‘Then get rid of Tootsie,’ Fudge said. ‘I’m sick of her. She’s no fun.‘”

″... whenever we had company, Fudge tried to sell Tootsie. ‘You like the baby?’ he’d ask. ‘Oh yes... she’s just adorable.’ ‘You can have her for a quarter.‘”

“Mom opened her arms and Fudge jumped into them. He rested his head on Mom’s shoulder, shoved his fingers into his mouth, and slurped on them. I know it’s stupid, but just for a minute I wished I could be Mom’s baby again, too.”

“That night I showed my mother and father our new poster. They thought it was great. Especially our silver-sparkle airplane. My mother put the poster on top of the refrigerator so it would be safe until the next day, when I would take it to school.”

“My biggest problem is my brother, Farley Drexel Hatcher. He’s two-and-a-half years old. Everybody calls him Fudge. I feel sorry for him if he’s going to grow up with a name like Fudge, but I don’t say a word. It’s none of my business.”

“The hard part was explaining to Jimmy that we had to start all over again. He was a good sport about it. He said this time he’d make sure his truck didn’t look like a flying train. And I said this time I’d make pencil marks first so my letters didn’t go uphill. ”

“I thought how great it would be if we could trade in Fudge for a nice cocker spaniel. That would solve all my problems. I’d walk him and feed him and play with him. He could even sleep on the edge of my bed at night. But of course that was wishful thinking. My brother is here to stay. And there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Me and Jimmy have this special group of rocks where we like to play when we’re in the park. We play secret agent up there. Jimmy can imitate all kinds of foreign accents. Probably because his father’s a part-time actor.”

“I can stay up for as long as three minutes. I showed my mother, my father, and Fudge how I can do it right in the living room. They were all impressed. Especially Fudge. He wanted to do it too. So I turned him upside down and tried to teach him. But he always tumbled over backward.”

“The next day my mother dragged Fudge to Dr. Cone’s office. He told her to leave him alone. That Fudge would eat when he got hungry. I reminded my mother that I’d told her the same thing—and for free. But I guess my mother didn’t believe either one of us because she took Fudge to see three more doctors.”

“We had an eater, a biter, and a crier. I thought that two-thirty would never come. I also thought my mother was slightly crazy for dreaming up the party in the first place. “Doesn’t Fudge have any normal friends?” I whispered. “There’s nothing wrong with Fudgie’s friends,” my mother whispered back. “All small children are like that.” ”

“Sometimes my mother laughs like crazy at my jokes. Other times she pretends not to get them. And then, there are times when I know she gets them but she doesn’t seem to like them. This was one of those times. So I decided no more jokes until after dinner.”

“Mom,” I said, shaking my head. “how could you?” ” “How could I what, Peter?” Mom asked. “How could you let him do it?” “Let who do what, Peter?” Mom asked. “LET FUDGE EAT DRIBBLE.” I screamed.”