The Watsons Go To Birmingham Quotes

Having a little pee in your pants had to be better than being dinner for some redneck.

Byron says he won't go there. He give Kenny and Joey a story about "Wool Pooh," the supposed evil twin of Winnie-the-Pooh. They believe him, but Kenny still wants to go.

Wow. Who would want a fish for a pet when they could have a turtle?!

There's one good thing about getting in trouble: It seems like you do it in steps. It seems like you don't just end up in trouble but that you kind of ease yourself into it. It also seems like the worse the trouble is that you get into, the more steps it takes to get there. Sort of like you're getting a bunch of little warnings on the way; sort of like if you really wanted to you could turn around.

Now, your mother and I made a deal when we first got married that if either one of us ever watched the 'wunnerful, wunnerful' Lawrence Welk Show or listened to country music the other one got to get a free divorce.

But I was kind of surprised that God would send a saver to me in such raggedy clothes.

cereal and went out into the

There was going to be a battle something like if Godzilla met King Kong, or if Frankenstein met Dracula, or like when champion wrestler Bobo Brazil meets the Sheik!

Every once in a while, Momma would make me go to Sunday school with Joey. Even though it was just a bunch of singing and coloring in coloring books and listening to Mrs. Davidson, I had learned one thing. I learned about getting saved. I learned how someone could come to you when you were feeling real, real bad and could take all of your problems away and make you feel better. I learned that the person who saved you, your personal saver, was sent by God to protect you and to help you out.

(Anika Noni Rose),

Dad was in the United Auto Workers at work so seniority was real important in our house.

It’s times like this when someone is talking to you like you are a grown-up that you have to be careful not to pick your nose or dig your drawers out of your butt.

It’s 1936, in Flint, Michigan. Times are hard. Ten-year-old Bud is a motherless boy on the run, and his momma never told him who his father was. But she left a clue: posters of Herman

My dinosaurs weren’t even in their graves for three hours before someone rolled their rocks away. Maybe it was a lot easier for a bunch of angels to get a million dinosaurs to heaven than it was to get the saver of the whole world there, but I wished they’d given me a couple more hours.

Joetta.

and his momma never told him who his father was. But she left a clue: posters of Herman E. Calloway and his famous band, the Dusky Devastators of the Depression!!!!!! Bud’s got

who his father was. But she left a clue: posters of Herman E. Calloway and his famous band, the Dusky Devastators of the Depression!!!!!! Bud’s got an idea that those posters will lead him to his father. Once he decides to hit the road and find this mystery man, nothing can stop him—not hunger, not cops, not vampires, not even Herman E. Calloway himself. “A crackerjack read-aloud.

Ten-year-old Bud is a motherless boy on the run, and his momma never told him who his father was. But she left a clue: posters of Herman E. Calloway and his famous band, the Dusky Devastators of the Depression!!!!!! Bud’s got an idea that those posters will lead him to his father. Once he decides to hit the road and find this mystery man, nothing can stop him—not hunger, not cops, not vampires, not even Herman E. Calloway himself.

Momma was the only one who wasn’t born in Flint so the cold was coldest to her. All you could see were her eyes too, and they were shooting bad looks at Dad. She always blamed him for bringing her all the way from Alabama to Michigan, a state she called a giant icebox. Dad was bundled up on the other side of Joey, trying to look at anything but Momma. Next to Dad, sitting with a little space between them, was my older brother, Byron.

road and find this mystery man, nothing can stop him—not hunger, not cops, not vampires, not even Herman E. Calloway himself. “A crackerjack

Christopher struggled for years, as a writer, before making a breakthrough with The Watsons Go to Birmingham, which was a Newbery Honor. He even wrote during his breaks, while working on an assembly line in a Detroit auto factory. “Now, that's persistence,” I told them.

Leave it to Daddy Cool to kill a bird, then give it a funeral. Leave it to Daddy Cool to torture human kids at school all day long and never have his conscience

Ms. Hackett prepared to lead a discussion on The Watsons go to Birmingham-1963. The boys had read the entire book and were surprised to learn that I had, too. I told them that the author, Christopher Paul Curtis, was a big man with dreadlocks, or at least he had dreadlocks several years ago.

I think we’ve got our fingers in God’s beard and as we drive along we’re tickling him.

nekkid

another finger sign I’d never seen before

Langston Hughes.

That was the only part I didn’t mind. I loved sticking my nose right on top of Joey’s head and smelling all those nice things baked together.

should be shot

Daddy Cool, though,

Daddy Cool.

Every Chihuahua in America Lines Up to Take a Bite out of Byron

new used tires,

Come on, Daddy, turn it on, stop teasing!

you had that…that…problem with Mary Ann

kill

on

When Rufus and Cody got off they said, “Hi, Mrs. Watson,” and gave her their big smiles.

Nazi Parachutes Attack America and Get Shot Down over the Flint River by Captain Byron Watson and His Flamethrower of Death

The Watsons Go to Birmingham

to

thought I told your jive little…’ ” I froze. I looked up. Their eyes were still locked on me. I looked at the teacher, who shrugged and gave me an “Oh, well” smirk. I went back to the book: yup, there it was, the rare three-lettered word that starts with a. My lips opened and shut soundlessly. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t read the word aloud to these fifth graders. My eyes went to Miss Bookworm, who had sprung the trap. “It’s okay,” she encouraged me. “Go ahead and read it. We already know what the word is.” My thought process in situations like this is similar to the way I used to play basketball—eventually effective but painfully slow and plodding. It seemed I stood in front of that class for hours, trying to figure what to do. I thought back to the many times when I’d take questions after a talk and some child would ask, “Why did you use swear words in this book?

answer

to pick your nose or dig your drawers out of your butt.