Sarah's homework assignment last night was to write an essay about what might happen if you'd had the opportunity to meet Jackie Robinson. This is her story.
This weekend I was going to sleep late but at 6:00am on Saturday Jackie Robinson knoked [sic] on my door. I was so surprised. I said, "Oh my god. What are you doing here?"
"You won an art contest. I'm the prize. A lesson."
"I don't want to learn baseball. I want ice cream."
"Sounds good."
We went to Coldstone. I got a milkshake. So did Jackie.
Now every Saturday I wake up thinking I'm getting to meet someone famous.
And she doesn't even like Coldstone.
ADDENDUM
After reading this, my brother referred me to a few stories he wrote at age 10. The comparison (or contrast), is striking.
Ah, boys. Someone should have referred him to the school psychologist.
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Nice end-run around the assignment.
ReplyDeleteIt's always a good idea to rephrase the question as something you'd rather answer.
lmao. i am going to ask wendy about this one.
ReplyDeleteOk, that freaked me out a bit Scheherazade's Dad; I was like who the fuck is that reading my blog? Although that is, of course what it's here for.
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