Metamorphosis

I’m writing screenplay number two in a trilogy of stories about an epic mythic world. I sketched out the major plot points in an outline and read it to my children for a bedtime story.

“So,” I said when I had finished, “what did you think?”

“Sea monsters can’t breath fire,” piped up the youngest, “What use would that be to them in the water?”

“Maybe when the sea monster hits land it can grow legs - then it could breath fire.” offered my middle daughter.

“Yeah!” said middle son, “and then when it is drowned in the flood at the end of the big battle, you could see it crawl out and become a chrysalis! Then it could show up later in the story...with WINGS!!”

“Oooo!” I replied, “a dragon with a metamorphic life cycle. I like it!”

“I think you need some more about the kid as he grows up,” added my eldest daughter, “He’s just kind of a baby and then the next thing you know he’s eleven and everything about him is surprising.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, looking around at my fast growing crew, “That is how it is all right.”

“So maybe at a couple scenes so we get to know him,” she finished helpfully.

There will have to be an authors note at the end that the story was co-written by all the Peterson children!

Youngest Son Guest Post: The Eight Diamond Lords

The evening began with my youngest son looking up at me, a sheaf of Colorado's ‘fill in the bubble’ practice writing tests spilling out of his backpack.

“Mom,” he said, tears streaming down his cheeks, “my writing doesn’t have any flow. I feel like tearing up everything!”

So he dictated a story while I typed and then we edited together for flow. Here is the result with the editing below:

            The Eight Diamond Lords


There were people falling from the clouds. The sons of the gods landed in the desert in a western town. The eight lords, each wearing their own color, were hungry so all decided to go to a bar, buy some drinks, and play cards. Then some cowboys came up to them and said “Get out of this bar. You’re not welcome here.” All the lords got in a huge argument and then got in a fight with the cowboys. The gold lord, punched the leader of the cowboys in the face and he went flying back and smashed through the wall. The lords decided to leave the town. While traveling they found awesome looking diamonds. Each of them picked one up. Oh, and did I mention that you can’t see their faces?  The diamonds started glowing the colors of the capes and hoods the lords were wearing. And then a beam from the clouds came down that matched the colors the eight masters were wearing. The beam took them back to their home.

Here is our editing: 


We made one word illegal: “they” (we decided we could keep only one “they”). He  crossed out some words and added new ones in blue. He read bits aloud as he made his decisions. Doing this on the computer seemed to add a bit of high tech fun.

There were people falling from the clouds.

They The sons of the gods landed in the desert in a western town.

They The eight lords, each wearing their own color, were hungry so they all decided to go to a bar, buy some drinks, and play cards. Then a some cowboys came up to them and said

“Get out of this bar. You’re not welcome here.”

And so they all the lords got in this a huge argument and then they got in a fight with the cowboys.

The gold one lord, he punched him the leader of the cowboys in the face and he went flying back and smashed through the wall. And then they the lords decided to leave the town. While And then they were traveling and they found these odd awesome looking diamonds. And each of them picked one up. Oh and did I mention that you can’t see their faces, the people, you can’t see their faces. And so each one picked one up. No - uh mom, I already said that. Mom! I don’t want that in my story.
“Is she writing down what I’m saying?” says big brother.

And the diamonds started glowing what the colors of the capes and hoods they the lords were wearing. And then this a beam from the clouds came down and the beam was that matched the colors what they the eight masters were wearing. and they got The beamed took them back to their home.

The Dark Just Before the Dawn, on a Bike

My youngest child just learned to ride a bike today. We worked for about 20 minutes and he was ready to quit. This is my fourth time through this. I knew we were close. 

“Here,” I said, “Let’s just ride back to the gate and we’ll take a brake.”

“Mom, I want to walk.”

“Come on, one more time.”

“Mom! Why can’t I just walk!”

He started to walk, hands on the handle bars. I held the back of the seat. The bike didn’t budge.

“Mom!”

He heaved a huge, exasperated sigh.

“Just to the gate.”

“I’ll make you a strawberry smoothie when we get inside.”

Another exasperated sigh.

He got on the bike. I ran along side, holding the back of the seat - faster, faster...I let go of the seat and stood still. He got to the gate and jumped away from the bike as it stopped and fell.  He looked around for me and saw where I was. His eyes grew wide.

“Did I do that !?!”

“Yup.”

He could barely contain himself.

“I still want a break and a strawberry smoothie.”

“O.K.”

“But then can we come out and ride some more?”

Farting Birth Stories

I’m so lucky! We have a professional day today. So over this weekend another teacher has graciously let me cut in line and check out “Wonder.” I started reading it aloud to my boys, 8 and 10, last night. We made it as far as August’s birth story. The author is brilliant. The birth story is full of farts.

My boys were rolling on the ground, laughing, tears streaming from their eyes. Many fart noises were made in armpits. Then:

“Mommy, did your nurse fart when I was born?” said the 10 yr old.

“I don’t remember.”

“I was born in the kitchen, right?”

“Yes, we had rented a hot tub and put it in the kitchen. But I was uncomfortable. The sides of the tub were soft and I couldn’t brace myself against it to push you out. So Mary Ellen, the midwife, helped me get out. Then I sat down by the wood stove and I told Mary Ellen ‘I don’t think I can do this anymore.’ and she said ‘Oh yes you can!’ and out you came!”

“Then what did Daddy do?”

“Well, Daddy sat on the couch holding you while I got cleaned up. He kept saying - 

‘You are so born! Yes born is what your are! You are so born...so born!’

“What about me?” asks the 8 yr old

“We were in a hospital...”

“But it was one with a hot tub, it had a hot tub.”

“Yes I stayed in the hot tub. Your sister was holding my hand and telling me to push and then you kind of swam up.”

10 yr old chimes in “You  must have thought ‘nice of them to build an addition! It was getting kind of cramped in there!’

Both boys start laughing again. 10 yr old snorts.

“Yes,” I say, “but then you hit the air and you were not happy!”

8 yr old does his best impression of an unhappy newborn. He’s pretty good!

I marvel again at the power of stories and the magic of writing. We can look at a piece of paper and hear the voice of another separated from us in space and time. Amazing!

Today, on our professional day, we field trip teachers are taking a group of core teachers on a field trip to the main branch of the Denver Public Library. Special collections, amazing new resources in the building and on the internet, and stories, stories, stories! Who wouldn’t want to go?

Pirate Lightning

            We took our four kiddos to a truly amazing exhibit about the pirate ship Whydah.  My youngest son, who is seven, awoke this morning, dressed himself in his pirate costume (a bit small – it was Halloween from two years ago) and fed himself, all before the rest of us even knew the sun was up.  He woke his oldest sister, face painting kit in hand, asking her to paint a mustache, beard and gold earring on him – “quick, ‘cause we’re leaving any minute!”

            The exhibit exceeded every expectation.  We tied knots, walked through a life size model of the ship, raised the pirate flag, looked at real cannon and REAL pirate treasure, last touched by REAL pirates, whose names we now knew.  There were costumed interpreters as well: a period pirate with attitude and a proper Boston matron.  After talking with them about Boston in 1717 the matron asked my sons about where they lived.  The boys then spent a full fifteen minutes trying to explain the wonders of modern technology to the matron.  My ten-year-old son tried explaining electricity:

            “It’s like lightning, traveling along wires.  And we hold the wires up in the air on big wooden poles.”

            “Heavens above!” cried the Matron, “That sounds terribly dangerous!”

            My seven year old walked away shaking his head in wonder, “I guess they really didn’t have cars or electricity back then,” he said.

            There was a healthy dose of serious history as well.  The Whydah had left Britain as a merchant marine with money and goods used to buy slaves in Africa.  From Africa it went to the Caribbean to trade slaves for sugar and tobacco.  Then back to Britain to sell the new world goods and start the circle all over again.  But then pirates captured her!  We found that pirate ships were run as a democracy, albeit a violent one, with men of all colors and cultures elected to positions of authority by their peers.  British navel vessels at the time were strictly hierarchical based on class; the lower classes usually treated like dirt. 

            We got to the room where we saw the ship capsize in a fateful storm and sink to its 300-year resting place.  My seven year old sat next to me on a bench.  The light was blue, dim and flickering; we might well have been sitting quietly at the bottom of the sea.

            “Mom,” he said, “I think that the pirates actually got all their money from stealing.”

            “Yup,” I answered.

            “Stealing is not a very good thing to do.”

            “You’re right,” I said.

            “But the other guys were selling people to be slaves.”

            “Yup,” I answered again.

            “That’s not a very good thing to do either.”

            “You’re certainly right about that,” I said.

            He sat silently for a minute, then turned and looked at me.  His face was so solemn I felt my heart twinge.

            “Mom, now I’m not sure who were the good guys.”

My son spent the afternoon in the principal’s office...

I have four children: two girls Prima, 17, Secunda 13, and two boys Tetro 10 and Quatro 7.  Quatro decided to sit in my lap while I wrote the daily blog.

             “Quatro, what happened today at school?”

            “It’s really hard to explain.” Quatro sighs deeply and looks at the computer screen, “What are those numbers that keep changing at the top of your screen?”

            “I don’t know.  Can you tell me what happened at school today?”
            “I said it is hard to explain.” Quatro sighs again, “Mom, can I play the math computer game on your computer.”

            “No, not until you tell me what happened today at school.”

            “Ugh! Mom, I TOLD you it is really hard to explain!  I don’t even know how to say it!”

Silence

            “O.K. – just tell me what happened first.  Did your day start out alright? Can you read what I wrote?”

            “I can’t seem to figure out that last word.”

            “I meant to write: all right.  So did your day start out well?”

            Quatro slides off my lap to go watch the movie trailer his dad is watching.  It is “The Fighter.”  Daddy will be watching it this evening after going to a jazz concert our friend's son-in-law is playing. The movie was recommended by a friend.  Quatro climbs back into my lap.

            “In P.E. I was with Emily and Makayla. Makayla accidentally hit Grace with an ice pack right here.” Quatro puts his left had over his left eyebrow.  “Makayla was going to return the ice packs and...”

            Daddy chimes in, “What were you craving from the grocery store my love?”

            “A Clementine Izzy,” I answer

            Quatro continues, “I said: and when Makayla gotten back to P.E. she had her necklace caught and it got broken, and it was very special”

            “The one you gave her?”

            “No but that one got broken when it got into the dryer.”

            “O.K.”

            “Then Makayla started crying and I was trying calm her down and when we got back to class Ms. Hannon said one of the teachers is a jewelry fixer.”

            “Um hm”

            “And maybe at Friday Fun Time we could go to the jewelry fixer teacher. But I forgot the teacher’s name.”

            “That’s O.K.”

            “And she stopped crying.” Quatro pauses, “That’s all I could tell you.  All the other ones are way too hard to explain.”

            Daddy chimes in again,“My Love, don’t close this window on my computer while I’m out; I’ve got a movie downloading.”

            “So, Quatro, what happened when you were sent to the office?”

            “UGH! Please…I don’t want to tell you that.  Mom, this is way to hard to explain!”

Silence

            “Well, what book was your group reading today?”

            “Arthur’s Eyes.”

            “Did you like that story?”

            “Not that much.”

            “Why didn’t you want to write answers to questions about the story?”

            “Ugh! I have no idea." Quatro thinks a moment, "Mom, you want to know what I wrote about?  I wrote about our tornado in Connecticut.  Now can I play a math game on your website on your computer?  Can I?  Mom, just answer me.”

            “Not yet.  I still want to know why you had to go to the office to finish your writing?”

            “If I only had one wife, I’d want her to be a lot like you!” Daddy says as he leaves for the jazz concert.

            “Mom, why’d you write that?”

            “That’s what Daddy said.”

            “Mom, don’t write that down!  Mom, just let me play a math game on your computer.”

            “I need you to tell me why you went to the office.”

            Quatro starts typing on my computer.‘’’’’  ‘’’’ “Mom, how do you make those little curvy things on the top?”

            “You push down the shift, and while you are holding it down you push the quote mark button, like this.”

            “”””””” “Oh.”

            “So why did you have to go to the office?”

            “I had to finish some work.”

            “Why did you have to do it in the office?”

            “I don’t know.” Quatro sighs, “I wanted to go home.”

            “Why did you want to go home?”

            “School was boring.  I wanted to go home.”  Quatro sits up on my lap, “Can I play a computer game now?”

            “First you have to write me something that is not boring.”

            Quatro writes: playing

            “Now can I play a computer game?”

            “First you have to write me two sentences that are not boring.”

            Quatro writes:   ruing a round playing gams with my bruthr

            “Wait,” Quatro says, “you forgot the e at the end!”

            “So did you.”

            Quatro rewrites: running around playing games with my brother

            “They still aren’t sentences, I don’ know who is running and who is playing.”

            Quatro writes: Quatro likes running around.  Quatro likes playing with his brother.

            “See, can squeeze the words in right there.  Now can I play?”

            “Did you eat dinner?”

            “We ate a lot of samples at Cosco.  I ate some meat," Quatro looks at me very seriously, "It was a lot of protein.”

            “O.K.”

            “Yeah!”

            “But just for twenty minutes. O.K.?”

            “O.K. Mommy.”