So I was driving with Jenna the other day in the car, and she starts telling me about the different kinds of writing they will be doing in fourth grade. Her teacher, Ms. Lawler, is fun and enthusiastic and loving and positive, and we know how she works from when Michaela had her, and the verdict is in: we all love her. Jenna decorated her Writer's Notebook the first week of school with great fanfare, placing pictures of puppies, kittens, peacocks (she LOVES them, she says), pandas, and little signs that say "I love my family" and "I love Disney World" (that was actually my suggestion). All very 4th grade girl. So Ms. Lawler has them trying out different kinds of writing and I love talking to the kids about what they write about: it's like a little window into their heads. It shows you what events stick with them, what made an impression, what they are still processing.
(True story: a few years ago, we spent multiple thousands of dollars renting a house on Cape Cod for a week's vacation. We hit the beach, swam in the ocean, shopped, went to museums, did a few nature hikes, mini golfed, jumped on trampolines, biked, ate multiple ice cream sundaes, and enjoyed a boat ride. The only thing Jenna ever wrote about the whole vacation was how much she loved Cuffy's, the t-shirt store.)
"I'm writing a story of realistic fiction," Jenna tells me.
"Oooooohhh," I answer. "Are you writing about a queen named Cheryl, who is very beautiful and wears a tiara and is ruler of all she sees?"
"Mom. NO. It's REALISTIC FICTION," she answers in a huff.
I'm glad I can still make her huffy. It's part of the fun of parenthood.