Hi there Mouseketeers!
I've been asked questions so I thought all you boys and girls might enjoy knowing some vital information.
1) nanowrimo is not a terrible disease we're recovering from. We participated in national novel writers for a month in November. I wrote 50K (bit over, actually), which was the requirement for a "win." The kids set their own levels, and they both chose 5K. Nick completed his (with typing help from me and one night from big brother, who vows never again, since his two main characters were ∑ and µ which are *not* fun to type over and over again). Sabrina wrote 3K which was excellent, but not an 'official' win.
2) I win mean mommy of the year because I cheesed out of typing for the kids about 2 weeks in (for a week and a half) because it finally occurred to me that I had to type 60,000 words. Which sucked. Bad, bad mommy. Nick wrote through the pain (well, his brother's pain) but Sabrina wouldn't really do it (on paper or on the computer) and when I got in a position, post-turkey-day, to help again, it was a more pleasant experience to type up Sigma and Mu (I gave up on the (@#&*@( symbols) than it was to type more of the 12 dancing princesses meets secrets of droon where everyone has hippity hops and loves each other except for the bad guy evil flower who goes away and is never heard from again, and they all just love each other and eat ice cream and play with toys and nobody ever zzzzz What? What's that? Oh yeah, bad mommy of the year. Red rover red rover, pass the award right over.
There's always next year, right? What happened to my original kid, whose first short story will be posted below? (We're taking donations for her therapy now)
click on "continue reading Hi There Mouseketeers!" to read her first short story
The Beavers Who Ate San Jose
by Sabrina Mounts, age 3
Once upon a time, the beavers ate San Jose. I was gonna eat them, and then I barfed them all up, and I ate them again and I didn’t barf them up, I swallowed them. I didn’t eat their bones, I ate their hair. And that was tasty! Tasty!
But first, the beavers ate our cars. And they ate us. They ate our hair. And they ate your eyes, Mom. They ate my eyes. And they ate your eyebrows, mom. And they ate your cheeks. And they ate your eyelashes. And they ate your nose. Ha ha! And they ate my cheeks. And they ate your ears Mom. And they ate Nicky’s eyes. And they ate our trees. And they ate the trunks of our trees. And they barfed it all up! And then, and then, and then, they ate our leaves, and the giraffes ate all of our leaves, too, with the zebras and the beavers. They ate all of the leaves, all together.
The beavers ate things because they wanted to. They ate everybody’s houses, leaves, trunks, fridgerators, and their houses and bushes and teeth and mouths and voices and hair and shirts and pants and skin and shoes and things.
The End