TREASURE IN A SUPERMAN BACKPACK

Today I found a treasure in my son Ben's backpack. It was two pieces of paper - the elementary school kind - with an extra dotted line to house wild, wondrous, some times indiscernible letters. The papers were scrawled with Ben's gorgeous, eye-pleasing, second grade scribbles and colorful illustrations. Stapled to the paper, a note from his teacher:

Dear Parents,

The class wrote personal narratives. First they brainstormed their ideas on a graphic organizer. They wrote a first draft and then edited it with me . . .

The writer in me perked up. I wonder how my son did with this assignment? Has he, perhaps, caught the Writers' Bug?! The curious mom in me stood at full attention. What could he possibly have written about?! What is racing 'round that juvenile, imaginative tabula rasa? I quickly flipped the teacher's note to the back of the treasure, almost liberating it with a riiiiiiip!

In the middle of the kitchen - one of the most holy, sacred sanctuaries of our home - I read:

THE DAY MY SISTER CAME HOME
by Ben

My sister came home from China at dinner time. At first she did not want us to see her. But then she ended up liking us.

After dinner my sister pulled me and my brother around the house. Finally we got to open our presents. They were panda shirts.

When we went to bed my sister cried. My mom asked her what was wrong. She said, "I want Ben." So I came in and I picked her up and took her in my bed.

But the only thing I do not like about my litter sister is she pinches me.

I love my sister.

As I post this blog entry I know that something has gotten lost in my transcription. It is Ben's handwriting: the tilting 'A's' and heavily filled-in periods, the reworked 'W's' and swirly 'O's' that speak so strongly of a brother's love for his sister who 'came home at dinner time.'