Six-year-old Alexis likes PE because her teacher makes up fun games.
Not that gas in PE isn’t fun.
Remember the cool little scooters?
Any game involving those is a perfect fit for flatulence. After all, breaking a bit of wind might provide a slight boost in propulsion, and it makes a pretty terrific sound effect. (Just don’t leave any skidmarks.)
And if you didn’t want to get caught underneath the parachute before, just wait until someone pulls the ripcord on one under there!
Do you think they put that hole in the middle of the fabric for ventilation?
Thanks to Shelley for sharing her daughter’s note with Stuff Kids Write. It’s no stinker, that’s for sure.
Please send us funny samples of kids’ writing you catch wind of.
Email to email@example.com or firstname.lastname@example.org.
Autumn is the season of Thanksgiving.
Do you know what your children are thankful for?
You might be surprised.
Eight boxes. That’s a lot of . . . toppings.
Jan is a kindergarten teacher. She sees lots of great stuff kids write.
But Jan’s own 5-year-old son brought this one home from school. In her words:
“Glad to see phonics is working. I’m a proud mom.”
You should be, Jan.
In this case, Ii is for Impressive.
If you see an impressive example of stuff a kid wrote, snap a pic with your smartphone and share it with the followers of SKW! Please email to either email@example.com or firstname.lastname@example.org.
Thanks, and happy Isexing to all!
Chase and Leanne
When I was ten years old, I decided to write a poem for my sister, Patti, who was six years older than me.
Patti loved playing tennis against the garage door of our giant machine shed and would spend hours doing this instead of playing with her little sister who followed her around when we weren’t doomed to cut acres of grass or pick the evil weed portulaca from our garden for two weeks.
My poem showcases my tennis-loving sister.
It also showcases
- political incorrectness
- why I should never be allowed to rhyme
- my horrific signature.
The crossed-out line reads: “Until she thinks of Brad.” I suspect I edited this because I knew Patti would smash a tennis ball at my face if I read it to her.
Happy Birthday, dear sister. Next time, I’ll tell the prostitute/hooker story or the lawn mower joy ride story or how you snuck me into bars when I was 14…and 15…
Do you have any funny writing from when you were young?
Please send it to us at StuffKidsWrite(at)gmail(dot).com.
Six-year-old E.R. wrote this poem as part of a school project:
It’s my turn on the slide.
My sister fights with me.
I get somewhere first.
My sister fights with me.
I climb up the slide.
My sister fights with me.
I climb up the ladder.
My sister fights with me.
E.R.’s mom Elizabeth, who blogs at Confessions of a Mediocre Mom, submitted this piece along with this commentary:
I am an only child, and everyone tells me this is completely normal sibling stuff. I still can’t help but think that if her only inspiration is the animosity in her home life, perhaps I should put that college fund on hold and start saving for therapy instead.
We say keep the college fund going, Elizabeth, because anyone with a sibling or who has more than one child will agree:
Poems such as this are perfectly normal.
Poems such as this could have a hundred verses.
Poems such as this could fill a thousand volumes.
Poems such as this were undoubtedly etched into the walls of caves during prehistoric times.
Poems such as this will be written a thousand years from now on whatever people write on at that time.
Siblings. Fighting. Yes.
So, any memorable “fighting” episodes wtih a sibling that you’re willing to share in the comments section below? How about your own kids? What do they fight about? (It may be quicker to discuss what they don’t fight about.)
Ding! Ding! Let’s drop the gloves and talk sibling scraps!
This past spring, when I. H. was in Year 2* at school, she wrote a story in her journal.
She is clearly attuned to pop culture and Chuck Norris facts, as you can see by this:
This is a brilliant illustration of cause and effect.
And I’m not surprised that Chuck Norris did that.
To read more of I.H.’s adventures, check out her mom Kirsty’s blog, Tantrums and Tears.
What has Chuck Norris made you do?
*Year 2 is the British equivalent of first grade.
Last month, Tamara and her husband decided to go against their bacon-loving ways and forgo meat. For a month. They have five kids who were also subjected to their 30 Days to Beat the Meat challenge .
Their third child, at age 7, decided to write a persuasive note to her dad.
But for those of you who may think a husband does not need to answer to his wife, I refer you to My Big Fat Greek Wedding, an opus on relationships.
Now please go to Tamara’s blog, Tamara Out Loud. She is a fab woman and a fab writer who blogs about sex and faith and pole dancing, not always at the same time, but sometimes.
This morning, I found this note behind a dresser. I’m not sure when it was written or under what circumstances, but it pretty much cuts to the chase:
I’m about 82% positive my wife didn’t actually say ”I don’t love you” to our 7-year-old son. He came to that conclusion after-the-fact based on some sort of traumatic interaction or event involving his mom. Three possible scenarios:
- A remnant of crust remained on a butter-and-jelly sandwich she had prepared for him.
- At bedtime, she laid in bed with his brother for 15 seconds longer than she did with him.
- She suggested that Yoda’s lightsaber skills are overrated.
Oh no she didn’t!
No, she probably didn’t.
If your children have ever played the guilt card on you, or you have any other funny writing they or other kids have composed, please share it with us by sending to stuffkidswrite (at) gmail (dot) com!
This is the phone conversation I had with my older brother last night regarding his middle daughter, Alice (age 8), and a number of other topics.
“I have something for you for that things-kids-write blog,” my brother says.
“You mean, Stuff Kids Write?” I ask. “What do you have?”
“Alice was at Sci Fi camp and needed her rabbit mask, so she wrote a note.”
My brain is processing too many things at once. I focus on his first five words. “Sci Fi camp? Like Science Fiction?”
My brother laughs. “No, Sci-Fi as in Science First.”
“Oh,” I say, “I thought she might be writing some Asimov or dressing up as her favourite Star Trek character.”
“You know,” my brother says, “I knew a guy who went to George Orwell Camp in 1984.”
“You’re serious?” I’m only slightly weirded out by the fact I’m talking to my big brother.
“Ya, and my friend said that’s where he met the the first girl he ever made out with.”
I laugh. I’m pretty sure I’m spitting into the receiver.
“He’s from Wisconsin,” my brother adds. “But I think the camp was in Iowa.” This is not providing the clarity I need.
“Wow,” I say. Conversations between my brother and me are an exercise in Non-Sequiturs. I circle back to the original point. “About that Sci-Fi camp. Why did Alice need a rabbit mask?”
He says, “Each day is a different dress up day. It’s really smart. You can have kids bang rocks together all day and if they get to dress up, they think it’s fun.”
Can’t argue with logic like that.
“Alice needed her rabbit mask,” he explains. “So she put a note on the fridge to remind everyone. She even drew a picture.”
“But they weren’t dissecting bunnies?” Images of rabbit stew a la Fatal Attraction play through my mind.
“No,” he says, “just banging rocks together and dressing like animals.”
We cover 25 more topics in 3 minutes.
But no more bunnies or 1984…
Photo credit: Pawpaw67 (cc)