Yesterday, my four-year-old granddaughter asked me why I am always writing.
“Grandma, why do you always do that?”
“Because I love to write. And I am writing stories.”
“Oh,” says Ava. She picks up my notebook and studies it. “I want to write stories too.”
I turn on my computer. “Okay, Grandma will type it out while you tell me your story.”
Ava appears to be thinking. She walks around the room. Picks up toys: her stuffed dragon, her plastic unicorn, her bear in a princess outfit. “I need to talk the story into the microphone,” she tells me.
I hand her my compact recorder and turn it on. Standing tall, and using hand gestures, she begins to share her story (after lining up a slew of her stuffed animals on my couch to be her audience).
And thus, Princess Freed, begins:
Keep in mind, her new word for the week is apparently.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Once upon a time there was a beautiful unicorn. And a princess. And the princess’s name was A Flower. She lived in a faraway castle.
It was berry, berry faraway, Grandma.
And the dragon flew, blowing fire at the princess. Then this enormous bird came and he tried to get the dragon but the dragon was berry fast. He was too fast. He went soaring through the air, flopping with enormous wings up above the body. Then a bird came with a bubble blower in his beak, holding the bubble blower, and he tried to shoot the dragon who tried to blow fire but the bird winned.
The dragon was dead and he couldn’t move anymore and the princess was freed . . .
So apparently . . . the princess really wanted to buy a new dress. But apparently she could not drive and get to the mall. So the princess flew on a Pegasus. Then the Pegasus went to the zoo and left the princess at the mall. A Flower could not get home.
Then apparently a huge hawk came flying through the air to drive the princess back to the palace . . .
But a dragon ate them for lunch.
And the princess was dead.
But then the hawk spit her out of his tummy. She did not taste berry good.
The end.
Oh . . . and they all lived happily ever after.
By Ava.
After dictating to me, she decided to draw her own illustrations. Next, I hope to discuss story structure with her, the importance of details, consistency, and having the protagonist solve their own problem.
Look for a revised story in a future blog.
*Apparently* your granddaughter has a talent for storytelling! Cute!
Yes, and she loves it. I had hoped to continue with her on this today, but Ava was more interested in being a runaway bride. After abandoning her groom (a stuffed cheetah) in our red maple tree, she dashed around the yard. And in her wedding gown, she dug for critters in the dirt. “I am too busy to get married now,” she told me. I, of course, trailed close behind with my camera.