Today's entry comes courtesy of my darling daughter ~
I found a "report" my daughter wrote a couple weeks ago tucked among her school homework. Her 4th grade class had been instructed to interview an "older person" and write about what they learned. She came home with a page of questions and answers and had written a half-page report, but wouldn't let me read it then.. I should have insisted. She'd basically written what she'd asked, omitting the answers.. She left out the details. So, I explained that she needed to be as descriptive with her school reports as she is with all of the short stories she has written. "Okay," she said with a sweet little hint of a smile. Below is her latest short story... one that she quickly covered up when I peeked at what she was writing last night.
Parent's Are Our Teachers
Pay attention to them because they are always full of instructions. so be ready to have chores in the afternoon and in the evening. It's too bad when you don't listen, OOPS! Now you're grounded from electronics. You tell them you were daydreaming, but they send you to your room.
You're very bored right now.
All the time you sit so bored. You are almost ready to snooze. Five minutes later you're catching zzzzz's. Every minute in your room seems totally lame.
Okay, time to face the parents. Confession time.
"Uhhhh, I'm sorry. I wasn't listening."
"Are you ready to tell the truth?" they say.
They now know the truth. You feel guilty. Each step you take makes you weaker. Also, you're pale and about to faint. It's very cold in the attic, where you sleep, but there's a heater in the corner, a tiny one. Every blow of hot air becomes thinner. You start raking piles of leaves and dirt away from you. Super cold, but still, you're finally warm and sleeping.
I guess she showed me who can use descriptive words..
And, no, she doesn't live in a leaf-filled, dirty, cold attic with only a tiny space heater for warmth.
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