Gilby’s Snowman
By Carolee Brockmann • Illustrated by Heidi Petach

Printer-friendly version

Gilby opened his eyes and saw snow, snow, snow! He scrambled out of bed and danced into Darren's room.

"Today is the day of the giant snowman," Gilby announced.

Darren looked up from his book. "OK, Gilby. Just let me get my homework done. Then we'll make the biggest snowman ever."

Gilby's smile drooped. Darren dug into his pocket and said, "Here are two pieces of pirate gold that I won at Amelia's birthday party. Perfect for eyes."

Gilby took the shiny coins. He quickly put on his red snowsuit and hurried down the stairs. His mother was peeling carrots and potatoes.

"Mama, will you help me make a giant snowman?" said Gilby.

"After I get the stew simmering." Mama bent down and tied Gilby's hood, then handed him a carrot. "You can use this for a nose."

Outside Gilby heard THUD! KA-CRACK! as his father split wood. Gilby tromped through hills and drifts of snow to the woodpile.

"Stand back, Gilby. Sometimes the chips go flying," said his father.

"Papa, will you help me make the biggest snowman ever?"

Gilby's father laid down his ax and pulled something from a bag in his pocket. "Got to finish this wood if we want a fire tonight, Gilby. But here's a licorice rope for his mouth."

Gilby tromped back through the snow and plopped down in the middle of the yard. "Why won't anyone play with me?" he said.

He scooped up some snow and made a snowball. Then he put it down and rolled it around. This was easy! The snow was sticking perfectly. Gilby rolled a snow head and put on the gold coins for eyes, the carrot nose, and the licorice mouth. "There you are, Mr. Snowman. How's that?"

Gilby made his voice low and scratchy and cold, like a snowman's voice. "I need a body."

"Of course you do, Mr. Snowman." Gilby rolled two more balls. "How's that?" He stepped back and looked at his two snowballs. Too small.

"I thought you wanted the biggest snowman EVER," said Gilby's snowman in Gilby's cold, scratchy voice.

Gilby rolled one of the balls around the yard again, puffing and pushing until it was huge. Then he rolled the other ball until it was almost that big. "How's THAT, Mr. Snowman?"

"Very fine, Gilby!"

"Now, the middle snowball goes on top of the biggest one," said Gilby.

He wrapped his arms around it. It wouldn't budge. "Oooooohhhhh!" cried Gilby. "I CAN'T build the biggest snowman ever."

He looked at the snowman parts lying on the ground—a huge snowball, a medium snowball and a head. Gilby had an idea. "You know," yawned Gilby's snowman in Gilby's best tired voice, "I could use a nap."

"Of course, Mr. Snowman!" Gilby said. He pushed the medium snowball next to the huge one. Then he moved the head so that the snowman looked as if he were lying on his side.

"Good night, Mr. Snowman," said Gilby. Now what could he make? Maybe a snow fort. Gilby ran to get his shovel.

When he came back, he almost dropped the shovel. Gilby's snowman was standing!

"I'm awake now, Gilby," said the snowman in a low, scratchy voice.

Gilby's mouth fell open, and his shovel fell on the ground.

"And I need a friend!" said the snowman in a scratchy voice that was a little higher, and a little more familiar.

"Or maybe a brother," said a deep, scratchy voice from the woodpile. It was Papa! He was rolling a snowball toward Gilby.

"A brother!" "A mother!" shouted two familiar voices. Darren and Mama jumped out from behind Gilby's snowman.

"Great!" shouted Gilby. "We'll make a whole snow family!"