"There's another blogfest coming up and I don't have any idea what to write about." I'm watching the traffic and not my daughter.
"What's this one about?"
"Umm, it's a bad girl theme." My mind starts racing. Do I really want to discuss this with my 12 year old?
My problem is I've never been a "bad girl", never hung around "bad girls", and the only things I can think of to write about are not appropriate. So I won't write them. I glance at her sitting in the passenger seat, and I can tell she's thinking hard.
"You know, girls who lie, steal, cheat, break the rules. That kind of thing." The kinds of things not mentioned hang heavy in the car.
"Oh, I could write it for you since you are so busy." She sounds excited. That makes me feel excited, and curious.
"Sure, I think that would be great, and I'll even post it for everyone to read."
Two days later she brings me the following story. I have to say, I LOVE it! It made me smile, it made me laugh. My daughter is soooo like me! Totally clueless in every way at age twelve. I hope it lasts a little longer. There is also a nice little twist at the end. I did not edit or change any of her writing (punctuation or spelling), but will tell you she has already pointed out some plot problems to me. See, she is even a natural at revision. Or I spend way too much time talking about writing and revising when my children are around...
There I was, in the middle of the hallway, on the first day of school. The day had been great so far. I made lots of new friends. I even got a cool green gel pen. I was heading to where my teacher said the bus lot was. I think I made a wrong turn somewhere. All of a sudden, I heard someone coming. The person rounded the corner and stared me down.
"What do you think your doing punk!" She demanded.
"Trying to find my bus." I replied.
"Looks like you need some help." She said sympathetically.
"Yes." I said with my hopes up.
"Well, ya ain't gettin' it." She yelled back.
She started walking away and I dared to call out, "Please, I need to get home."
She turned back and said, "I'm so NOT sorry!" She turned around again and called out, "Get lost, I got some pots to sell."
"Please!" I pleaded.
"No, and ya want some advice? Go smoke some weeds."
That's when a teacher came to the rescue. He led me down some hallways and to the bus lot. I got on just in time. I couldn't wait to tell my mom about my day.
When I got home I threw my book bag on the floor and called out, "Mom, guess what I did today?"
I told her all about my teacher and friends. I even saved the best for last. I told her about the kid who was selling pots and likes to burn dandelions.
I guess the moral of the story is: When your fifth grade sister finds you in the halls alone, on the first day of kindergarten, don't expect her to be nice. Expect her to be a bad girl.
Later on she told me pots--as in flower pots or vases, and weeds like dandelions like she changed before typing this footnote:). I just thought you should know I DO NOT KNOW ANY FIFTH GRADERS SELLING POT (or pots) OR WEED(or dandelions) --K :)