Writing awards and wardrobe malfunctions
Won day I went fishing on the dok. I felt a hrd tug. It was a shrck! I wus sprist! I had a big tack. I poot him in it. He swam arown and aet and playd. He wus hapey.
Raw emotions. Suspense. Edge of your seat drama. And spelling to rival that of most adults when denied spell-check. This is the award winning story from my kindergarten son, Sam.
I attended the ceremony for the Young Author Awards given to the top writers from each grade. Sam’s story was selected among 144 other entries. He and three other children from his grade received this top honor. Sam read his story aloud at the ceremony. I hung on his every word. Despite his staccato reading style and monotone voice, I was pushed to the brink with anticipation. What was on the end of the line?
I burst into applause and Maxwell yelled “Bravo!” when Sam finished. I am beyond thrilled. My son, an author. His story is currently on display in the cafeteria for the reading pleasure of the masses. I am so very proud.
And I’m not at all threatened or envious that my six-year-old has honed his craft and mastered his genre at such a young age. I don’t feel even a tiny bit of intimidation or insecurity that my child is going to be published in a hard-cover book at the tender age of six. No, not me. Yep. I’m good.
Sam and Max posed with Sam’s story. As you can see, Max took this all very seriously.
I can’t blame Max. He was just having some pre-performance jitters, for his Spring Program took place after Sam’s award banquet. That coupled with the horrendous comb-over Daddy gave him that morning would put anyone in a dither.
Max didn’t falter. He sang loud. He sang proud. Even to the chagrin of his classmate.
He has a melodious voice!
Nothing slowed him down. Not even a slight wardrobe malfunction.
He even paused to throw some love to his old lady.
I am deeply proud of my two sons.