Everyday for part of our homeschool, Will and Trinity write for fifteen minutes in their notebook. They can write about anything they want, in any style they choose, and I am prohibited from correcting their grammar or spelling. Re-writes are forbidden and rough drafts reign supreme.
Each time I set the clock for them to begin writing, they moan and make pained expressions as if they were being set on fire. Then they scribble like mad for fifteen minutes and complain bitterly when I tell them to stop.
Children are so even tempered and soothing to work with (said no parent ever.)
Because you are important to me, gentle reader, and because I want to preserve it for all posterity I am sharing with you the haiku my son wrote the other day.
Swimming is so fun,
The only risk is drowning.
My sister likes it too.
I like Will’s nonchalance concerning death. It’s got a little “carpe diem” tone to it. However, I am a slightly confused if the sister in the poem likes the risk of drowning too because she’s an adrenaline junkie, or if she is simply agreeing that swimming is a pleasant past time. Frankly, it’s the ambiguity that really makes this poem.
This is just how William Shakespeare must have got started, right? RIGHT?
Some days I imagine my children as polished, competent adults who bless society with their myriad of important skills and talents, and I think “Look at what I helped to create!”
Other days I imagine them shaggy haired and stinky, selling painted rocks as cheap jewelry along the side of the street and I think, “Look….at what I helped to create…”
Parenting is great.
Worst case? I ruin my children.
The kids like it too.