She thought up the story at school last week, in collaboration with her class. She decided to write it down today so that, as she explained to me, "You can keep it in your special forever files, Mommy."
She grabbed her notebook paper and headed to her room, where she holed herself away to work. Then she emerged, a little shy to share what she had done, nervous about whether or not I would like it. But in her heart, she knew it was good. It was written on her face, in the shyly proud smile she wore as she read the tale aloud to me.
She is six years old and barely reading. Yet she just put down on paper a fully realized narrative, with a clear story arc and a structured beginning, middle and end.
She is brilliant. (I realize I am biased. But still. She IS.)
She spells phonetically, so here is a translation for anyone confused by some of her words:
I got a magic wand and I had a terrible day. You will never believe what happened first. I turned my mom into a baby. Then I turned my dad into a mouse. It was terrible. All my mom did was cry and scream. All my dad did was crawl. Then I heard a knock on the door. I came running to open the door. It was a wizard. He said, "Have you seen my magic wand?" I said, "Yes. I have a big problem. I turned my mom into a baby. Then I turned my dad into a mouse. Can you fix this?" He said, "Yes." And then everything was back to normal. I never want a magic wand again.
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