I'm a Baked Potato!
For Lulu, who will always be my little baked potato!—E.P.
To Cata & Mauricio.—J.M.
Text copyright © 2019 by Elise Primavera.
Illustrations copyright © 2019 by Juana Medina.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available.
ISBN 978-1-4521-5592-0 (hc)
ISBN 978-1-4521-5615-6 (epub2)
ISBN 978-1-4521-7527-0 (epub3)
ISBN 978-1-4521-7526-3 (kindle)
Design by Amelia Mack.
Typeset in Cochin.
The illustrations in this book were created digitally, using Procreate.
Chronicle Books LLC
680 Second Street
San Francisco, California 94107
www.chroniclekids.com
a lady who loved baked potatoes. She ate one every day. She even had a potato garden in her backyard because she hated to run out.
The lady also loved dogs, and so one day she went and got one.
She chose him because he seemed to fit so nicely in her arms.
“You remind me of something,” she said to the dog.
“What could it be?”
The dog was smooth.
The dog was warm.
She could have eaten him right up.
“That’s exactly it!” she exclaimed.
“You’re just like a baked potato!”
And that was what she told him first thing every morning. “You’re my little baked potato.”
Throughout the day she called for him. “Here, Baked Potato!”
Or commanded, “Roll over, Baked Potato!”
And so on.
The lady was an excellent pet owner.
She and the dog ate all their meals together by the fire.
She let him sleep under the covers.
She loved the dog even more than she loved baked potatoes.
the lady went out.
The dog went out, too.
“Where’s the lady?” he wondered.
He walked down the driveway.
He looked everywhere for her.
He walked farther and farther.
Where was the lady?
He came to a small house.
A big dog ran to him and barked nastily.
“Who are you?” he snarled.
“I’m a baked potato,” the dog replied.
“You look more like a groundhog to me!
Go away before I bite you!”
The dog had never heard such yelling.
“Do you know where the lady is?”
But the big dog just shouted, “Scram!”
The dog wandered farther down the street.
He looked all around.
Was she around the corner?
Was she over the next hill?
“Where’s the lady?”
The sky became dark. The air became cold.
The dog became worried.
It began to rain.
The dog thought of how it felt to be held in the lady’s arms.
He thought of how right now they’d be sharing a meal together by the fire.
He thought of the bed where she let him sleep under the covers.
“The lady!” he called. “Where are you?”
A fox heard his plaintive cry. “Who are you?”
“I’m a . . . groundhog?” The dog had never been so upset.
“You look more like a nice plump bunny rabbit to me.”
The fox licked his lips. “I just love bunny rabbit.”
“What a relief,” said the dog.
“Come with me,” said the fox.
He led the dog to his creepy house.
The fox turned on his oven. “You would be good with carrots and onions,” he muttered.
“Who are Carrots and Onions?” the dog asked. “Do they know where the lady is?”
The fox had a devilish grin. “We’ll ask them, shall we?”
Just then a voice said,
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Right at the fox’s door stood an old owl.
The owl shook his head at the fox (who he knew to be a coward).
“Who are you?” the owl asked the dog.
“I guess I’m a bunny rabbit,” the dog said, his lips trembling.
The owl gave the fox a dirty look. “Come with me.”
Then he took the dog by the paw and brought him to his cheerful house.
He looked into the dog’s eyes. “You are not a bunny rabbit.”
“So I’m a groundhog?” The dog had never been so confused.
The owl shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“I knew it,” the dog said. “I’m a baked potato.”
“You are a dog,” said the owl.
Bing! The timer on the owl’s oven sounded.
“This is a baked potato.”
The dog sniffed it. It smelled like the lady.
The dog was taken aback.
“You seem to know a lot,” he said.
“Do you know where the lady is?”
“I don’t know that,” the owl said. “But I do know that dogs are very good at finding things, especially with their noses.”
“Like the lady?” the dog asked hopefully.
“Like the lady,” the owl replied firmly.
Outside the dog took the owl’s advice.
He sniffed and smelled the lady. The smell wafted on the breeze.
He followed it away from the cheerful house, past the creepy house, and past the small house, then around the corner and down the street.
Soon he could hear her calling, “Baked Potato! Baked Potato!”
Sure enough standing in the porch light was the lady.
He jumped into her arms and she showered him with kisses.
“My little baked potato,” she cooed, squeezing him tight. “I should have known you’d like walks in the rain—you’re just like me!”
to be back, but the dog would never be the same. He knew he was not a baked potato, or a groundhog, or a bunny rabbit.
He knew exactly what he was.
“I’m just like me.”
has been writing and illustrating children’s books for more than twenty-five years. She has received numerous awards for her work. Her bestselling book, Auntie Claus, has sold over half a million copies. Some of her illustrated middle grade novels include The Secret Order of the Gumm Street Girls, Ms. Rapscott’s Girls, and Marigold Star. She lives in New Jersey.
was born in Bogotá, Colombia, where she grew up getting in trouble for drawing cartoons of her teachers. Eventually, all that drawing (and trouble) paid off. Juana studied at the Rhode Island School of Design, where she has also taught. She now lives in Washington, DC, with her family and their dear dog, Rosita.
Elise Primavera, I'm a Baked Potato!
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