Max has been wanting to write since before he actually could. He used to spend long periods of time hunched over his notebook, drawing squiggy lines that met his perfectionistic standards. He'd then tear out the piece of paper, hand it to me, and very seriously inform me that "This is Blah Blah Blah Language. You have to take this and study it. Then I will test you tomorrow. If you get them all right I will give you one piece of candy."
I guess this is what I sound like?
Now that he can actually write he leaves me amusing little notes like this one:
You do not have a house and you do not have a sword for fighting bad guys.
I'm pretty sure I don't sound like that.
Anyway, today I give you, for your reading pleasure, a story he wrote in his handwriting notebook at school. I copied it the way he wrote it, so you have to decipher his spellings.
And if you don't like it, in Max's words, "You want to Bisa me?" [You want a piece of me?"]
Real blogging to follow soon.