“In my mind I see fiery dragons, knights, a king waving a giant red flag, adventures and mysteries…”
On the last day of school, Gabriel scribbled a story on the back of a word search. This wasn’t just any yarn, but the epic of Will and his older sister who is secretly the king’s best jouster and has gone through 28 boyfriends just this year.
And although he’s always been an imaginative little one– spinning tales for Mary at night and drawing intricate castle battle scenes at church– he’s never been quite so excited about a storyline. I bought him a red journal last Christmas when he declared he wanted to be a writer but it remained largely neglected.
Yet as the summer progresses, I catch him here and there and everywhere, scribbling his rough draft onto brown school paper and then carefully transcribing the edited pages into his journal.
And I can scarcely resist the temptation (especially when he’s perched on my bed) to tickle him and kiss his nose, to roll and revel in the delicious pleasure of sharing my life with these marvelous little people.
Don’t you love it when the genes peek through?
Wong was snuggled up in bed with me this morning when I was reading this post, and he said “Excuse me Mum -” (and I flashed to so many conversations over there!) “but what’s Gabe doing?”
“Writing a story” I kissed into his hair.
A pause while he thought, and looked at the photos again.
“Cool!” he declared.
It is. Very.
Luv, Us All
Cuter than cute. Leave that boy alone and let him write. No more tickling or kissing his head. :o) This makes my heart soar, as a child I adored paper and pen and pencil. I knew full well I wanted to be an author in 4th grade.
This is the most charming thing I’ve ever seen. The picture of him on the chair in the garden with the tongue of writerly concentration–priceless.
Nothing comes from nothing.............................................................
Hey–I’ve sent you a couple of e-mails but don’t seem to be reaching you. Could you e-mail me? Thanks! (youngbookshelf at gmail dot com).
I like the one with his thinking tongue. My Grandpa Farnsworth makes that same face!