Ay yo iz mdawg n' i be guest writin'.

When I was five, or so, I lived in this smallish house down the street from an elementary school with my giant dogs and parents. My parent's bathroom had like, a seperate little toilet room thing, ya know? It was in the bathroom but there were doors that seperated it from the sink and shower and bathtub and stuff. The thing is, though, the doors looked like this:

Yeah. Totes wild wild west, yo. So I'd go in there and stay all day long until my parents walked into their bathroom, and when they did, I'd pop out, scare the shee' out of them, and yell "this town ain't big enough furr the two of us!" Yeah, I was adorable.

Am I supposed to write something about childhood now? Okay. Uh. Childhood, as you may know, is so easy for most. No worries or anything. Just doin whatchoo wanna do and getting praised for everything/getting presents from everyone all the time just because you're cute. And then you grow up and are replaced with new and more adorable lil people and you don't get random presents anymore. Sob. but not really.

Kids and their Toys!

All kids dream about having this big amazing one of a kind playroom. A playroom that they can call their own. A playroom that is so much cooler than his/her friends playroom. A playroom full with all sorts of toys.  A kids playroom isn't just a room full of toys, its a room where a kid can be a kid and nothing else is as precious as there time with their toys. Kids can play for hours in their playrooms.  When i was little my playroom was my bedroom. I had lots of toys but no place to put them. That was a real issue because i would always trip over them. If i had a playroom there would have been a spot for all  my toys. The playroom pictured above is a room for kids of different ages. Although, it is the coolest playroom i have ever seen. This room screams PLAY! Obviously someone felt strongly about their kids having a playroom. It has computers, tables, cushions, Foosball table, a TV, and I'm sure many toys. Who wouldn't want to play in this playroom? When i was younger one of my childhood friends had a playroom and I thought it was the coolest place i had ever been in. It had buckets upon buckets of toys, it had a TV where we could watch movies, it had a enormous barbie doll house that i could fit in, it had a lego table, and it had a table where we could color. I could spend so much time in their and not even realzie it. If i were a parent i would make sure my kid had a playroom that they could use for their toys and playtime. If you think about it, it is a stupendous idea. With a playroom, there wouldn't be toys scattered all over the living room, the kitchen, or anywhere you could trip over them, except for in their playroom. If their playroom has doors then that also minimizes the noise level in the house. Many parents deal with kids that have too much energy and their kids always have to be doing something. Well that can be fixed with a PLAYROOM! Like i mentioned before kids can spend hours in a playroom playing with their toys. It keeps them busy and gives parents time to get done some of the stuff they wanted to get done. A playroom can do all that? YES! You might not realize it but a kids playroom is like their sanctuary. Give your kids a playroom. It will save you so much trouble.

Oh Grandama!

Shifting in my bed with every turn my body starts to sting. My eyes still closed, a lay there still wondering why i can feel heat lifting off my skin. I'm only four and with every movement my eyes start to water. The blanket rubbing against my body makes me want to cry. The pain is wretched and streams start to roll down my face. Teary eyed i limp out of bed with tiny little sweat beads on my forehead. "Mommy!" i yell. "Mommy!" 

She starts to walk towards me "Yes baby girl?" she says as shes turning the corner of the never ending hallway.

" I..."
"Oh my lordy!" 
Sobbing i say, "Mommy? My skin hurts all over."

My  mom is speechless. I look like a lobster and it is all thanks to my lovely grandma. Every once in a while i will spend a day with my grandma at her ranch. Well this time it was all day and only 110 degrees outside. I played in the grass, fed the horses, and found stuff to keep myself busy. My grandma was in charge of making sure i was taken care of. It just so happens she forgot to put sunscreen on me. IN A 110 DEGREE WEATHER AND SHE FORGETS TO PUT SUNSCREEN ON ME! I am only four how am i suppose to know to put it on. Come on Grandma you are suppose to know these things.

So eight whole hours in the sun and no sunscreen results in a four year old lobster colored girl. That evening i remember walking into some restaurant, my pink cowgirl boots clacking on the ground, my pink cowboy hat sinking over my eyes, and my pink jean vest and skirt rubbing against my body. With every step, "ow ow ow ow ow," through the parking lot and in through the door. Of course people laughed and some said wow and others were astonished. I was embarrassed and my cheeks were already brick red so you couldn't tell that i was embarrassed.

Oh Grandma! Why did you forget to put sunscreen on me?! Why!!!!

Anyway, back to me and my mommy.
She knew i was sunburned yesterday but it was worse the next morning. Still standing there speechless she walks away and comes back with a blue bottle filled with gooey stuff.

"Are you going to put that on me?"
"Yes sweetie."
"Oh no you are not mommy! That stuff looks gross!"
"It will make you feel better Brittany"
"Um okay i guess."

She smooths the Aloe Vera on my body, my self heater. "EWWW."  It is so cold but it felt so good on my sunburn. The bad part now is that i have to sit still. My  mom called my grandma and told her that i looked like a sad lobster and my Grandma started cackling. I snarled while i listened to their conversation. My Grandma apologized for FORGETTING to put sunscreen on her beautiful granddaughter. 

For a week i was as red as a lobster. That was the worst week of the year when i was four.

Katherine Paterson: Mentor Author

Although Katerines book Bridge To Terabithia is more of a childs book she illustrates her story in an imaginative way that can catch the eye of different audiences. Katerine uses descriptive imagery to create an imaginative picture. From the exceprts below Katerine uses styles of sounds, firgurative language, diction, discription, and emotion.

Style: Imaginative stories taking action in childrens real life dreams.

"Creating a world of their own."

Excerpts

Chapter 1:

Ba-room, ba-room, ba-room, baripity, baripity, baripity, baripity—Good. His dad had the pickup going. He could get up now. Jess slid out of bed and into his overalls. He didn't worry about a shirt because once he began running he would be hot as popping grease even if the morning air was chill, or shoes because the, bottoms of his feet were by now as tough as his worn-out sneakers.

"Where you going, Jess?" May Belle lifted herself up sleepily from the double bed where she and Joyce Ann slept.

"Sh." He warned. The walls were thin. Momma would be mad as flies in a fruit jar if they woke her up this time of day.

He patted May Belle's hair and yanked the twisted sheet up to her small chin. "Just over the cow field," he whispered. May Belle smiled and snuggled down under the sheet.

"Gonna run?"

"Maybe."

Of course he was going to run. He had. gotten up early every day all summer to run. He figured if he worked at it and Lord, had he worked, he could be the fastest runner in the fifth grade when school opened up. He had to be the fastest, not one of the fastest or next to the fastest, but the fastest. The very best.

He tiptoed out of the house. The place was so rattly that it screeched whenever you put your foot down, but Jess had found that if you tiptoed, it gave only a low moan, and he could usually get outdoors without waking Momma or Ellie or Brenda or Joyce Ann. May Belle was another matter. She was going on seven, and she worshiped him, which was OK sometimes. When you were the only boy smashed between four sisters, and the older two had despised you ever since you stopped letting them dress you up and wheel you around in their rusty old doll carriage, and the littlest one cried if you looked at ther cross-eyed, it was nice to have somebody who worshiped you. Even if it got unhandy sometimes.

2nd Excerpt:

He screamed something without words and flung the papers and paints into the dirty brown water. He watched them all disappear. Gradually his breath quieted, and his heart slowed from its wild pace. The ground was still muddy from the rains, but he sat down anyway. There was nowhere to go. Nowhere. Ever again. He put his head down on one knee. “That was a damn fool thing to do.” His father sat down on the dirt beside him. “I don't care. I don't care.” He was crying now, crying so hard he could barely breathe. His father pulled Jess over on his lap as if he were Joyce Ann. “There, there,” he said, patting his head. “Shhh…shhh.”

Imitation writing(coming soon)