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Wealth of a Child

Vicbowin's school work came home last night with a small three page play she had written called "The Sweet Life of Meg & Kellci." (We'll discuss her creative spelling of Kellci later.)

It is always a delight to see what she has created. Her writing voice is very strong (albeit untamed), so strong in fact that I think she will outstrip my abilities by the time she hits her teens. Already her teachers tell me how, when reading her papers, they can hear her speaking as if she were standing right next to them reciting the answers.

The other strong trait of her writing is her perception of life. This is where the real fun of her work comes in. At nine years old she hardly understands the profundity of her words. She see's the world through some very clear lenses, but her age has yet to allow her the power to comprehend exactly what it is she is seeing.

Back to the play she wrote--in Scene II Meg and Kellci are discussing what they wish they could have (and what they are going to do the next day).

Kellci: What if we were rich?


Meg: Boring!


Kellci: But it would be cool!


Meg: Nah.--How about going to the mall tomorrow?


Kellci: Yes! Yes! Yes! It's the first step to being rich! Because if you like the mall then I know somewhere in your heart you want to be rich.

When I read that last line I burst out laughing (luckily she was in bed already). How true is that? If we enjoy spending money then deep down we must desire to have it.

My daughter blows my mind sometimes.

Comments

Lady Fromage said…
That is darling! As are those sunglasses ;)
Jennifer said…
The family legacy is strong in this one. ;)
Anonymous said…
That is awesome! What a deep thinker you have!
Cari Hislop said…
That is quite profound. I've never thought of it that way. Scary! Profound at nine...just imagine what she'll be like in twenty years.

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What do you think?

Mutterings of a Middle-Aged Dreamer

Use your words, my dear sweet soul, they are inside of you... So find them. Write, you silly girl, write so hard the world will never forget you.
But does it matter if the world remembers you? 
Age begins to press its hands upon your chest and the need to be remembered seems to increase with the pressure. 
Stop.
That's not a line of thought you're interested in pursuing. 
Live in the now.
Does it matter if the world remembers you if your neighbor is going hungry? 
Perhaps age is merely pushing you out the door. 
Go. Live in the now.