Whale and Moose
“One time a whale was a friend with a moose.”
That’s how my daughter’s latest story begins. She’s been bringing them home from school. I asked if I could share it with my friends.
“You mean like on the computer?”
“Yeah. Can I share your story and picture with my friends? On the computer.”
“Sure, Mom. You can share my art on the computer any time.”
She cracks me up.
So here’s the next part of the story: “They never had to go to school.”
Sounds like something a kid might wish for. But fortunately I don’t worry too much about that. School is a very good thing around our household. We love school. The guides (teachers). The friends. The hour of outdoor play every day. The dusting on Fridays and three-hour work cycle each morning. Group time. Lunch at tables with real table cloths and silverware and glass plates and cups. (No paper. No plastic. Yay.) The story-writing and tracing it all out in cursive.
In cursive? Seriously?
I couldn’t believe it the first time that started coming home. But there it is.
My four-year-old is learning cursive writing. And she’s dictating stories to her guide, who writes them down so she can trace the words and illustrate the story.
This amazes me.
Here are the next lines: “Then every day, the whale asked his mom and dad if she could invite her friend, Moose.”
Whoa there. His or her? I asked, “So is whale a he or a she?”
“I think I messed that part up. Moose and Whale are both shes.”
“Okay. Just checking.”
The ending: “Every day she invited her friend, Moose and got to play together. The End.”
The perfect ending . . . every day friends inviting and playing together. That is a utopian vision worth hanging onto. I think it’s fair to say that even the practice of resurrection is hidden in this story of friends and inviting and playing together. Two pretty unlikely friends, Moose and Whale.
I think I’ll just ponder that.