Reality
the artist
I am 7 years old. I like pink, but only the bright kind. Light pink
is for babies. I don't write as well as I type and my mommy tells me
when I misspell something (like "misspell", oops!). I like to write
and color, but I like to color on big, white peeces (here comes mommy
again) of paper. My mommy buys me pens and paints and magic markers
and stuff from the supermarket and toystore. I like Barbie and
Skipper, too, but mommy won't get another one for me because she says
that I have too many and they cost too much money. But every time we
need money, she just goes to the bank and it gives her money when she
pushes the buttons. I wonder if I tried that if the bank would give
me monee (mommy, which spelling is rite?), too.
I like the Internet. My older brother knows how to get onto all the
naughty places (Mrs. Gold, my teacher, showed me how to spell
"naughty"). He's 13 and he's really great, but he won't let me do
anything fun with him and his friends.
the art
Yesterday, my brother showed me how to make a collage yesterday. We
had fun. We took photographs of our family and scanned them into our
computer and he showed me how to put them into a drawing that I
made. He put a dog head on my body, which made me cry, so I put a
monkey head on him and then we fought until mommy and daddy yelled at
us.
Well, okay, sometimes my brother is a real donkey-butt.
the beret
My mommy makes me wear a hat in the winter so I don't get chilled.
She says that if the blood in my head gets cold that my hands and feet
will, too. I have an old blue hat that I like. It was my daddy's. It
is knitted and covers my ears. My daddy's favrit color is navy blue,
but he wasn't ever in the Navy.
Submitted by Willow (jrg@sirius.com), on Monday, November 6, 1995