a writer is born

As many people know, I have always been the anti-soccer mom. I have refused to sign the boys up for everything and run around like a crazy person just to keep up with the Joneses. Sometimes I wonder if I'm cheating them by not making them chase a black and white ball around in a tiny uniform, but my gut tells me I'm making the right choice. I believe that they should each discover on their own just what it is they love and want to pursue.

At a recent parent/teacher conference, my oldest son's teacher explained that my son is really thriving and is ahead of his class when it comes to reading. She indicated that we should keep pushing him to make sure he continues to grow. The thing is, we actually don't push him at all. It's all his doing. He decides, in his free time, to write short stories and poetry for fun. Here's one of his recent stories, exactly as he typed it on the computer. He's not much for punctuation yet but it's still readable:

One Sunday afternoon in the month of December lived a man
Named Hershel and people said there was a snow monster it
Was hard to believe but Hershel had to admit it so the next
Morning Hershel woke up early to see if the snow monster was
Real so got on his snow cloths and walked outside his house into
The wilderness while he was walking the ground started to shake and
There stood behind him a snow monster Hershel got filled
With fear he could feel the tips of the snow monsters frosty
Fingers touch his neck Hershel froze for a moment then
Hershel slowly turned his head at first there was nothing
Then something slowly rose up and out of the ground
It got bigger and bigger suddenly eyes appeared and
A mouth then the snow monster pounded the ground
With its giant hands it created avalanches and a bunch
Of snow piled on top of Hershel his hart pounded as
The terrible sight the snow monster roared with terror .
And lifted the pine tree he held it high in the air and
Swung it and hit another tree Hershel saw two kids
Playing lacrosse go home he yelled the kids ran as
Far as there legs could take them Hershel got up
His coat flapped in the wind he ran as fast as he
Could he walked in the door and lit a candle it
Flickered as the wind blew he sat down and read
About history then he came to a picture of a snow
Monster o brother he said this is a nightmare




He also wrote a poem for Halloween:

Boo

Past the moon past the stars and over mars
You may think its a astronaut but
Its not what you think it is.
If you look very closely you will notice a
Difference. You may see a black pointy
Hat and a black dress and striped socks
And you might notice a broom. You better
Be careful she swoops down to get you!

Also, his own spacing, spelling and punctuation.

His most recent endeavor was to design a robot. The amount of detail and labels he included indicate he might have a touch of OCD, but I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.



After much anticipation, my husband took the boys to Lowes to buy the parts to create the robot and here's the result:



This is just the "bones" for it, they still have to "flesh it out".


The other night I went into my son's room to say goodnight and found him writing away in his journal. His latest story is about ants being forced to make honey by wasps. He looked up, almost breathless, and said, "I've found my 'thing', Mom! Writing is my thing!" I like to think that the lack of soccer practices, boy scouts and other after-school activities allowed him the space to discover this about himself. It's hard to stand strong in the over-achiever, high pressure culture known as the suburbs, but I'll keep fighting the good fight!