Piper Writes a Sentence

I’ve blogged before about Piper’s loathing of all things academic. She’s the daughter of two professors. One of us has been in graduate school most of her life. Of course she hates reading and writing. Makes total sense.

But last week Piper’s teacher presented me with her very first sentence. Ta da!


Now I know your kindergartener wrote her first novel last year, but Piper isn’t your kindergartner. Piper wrote about shopping. “I went to Macy’s.” Which is true, in her defense. Specifically, I took her to Claire’s. In the picture she drew headbands with sparkly bows and huge flowers. Those were her big purchase. She’s worn one of those headbands every day since. She loves a sparkly headband. She loves a sparkly anything. I praised her sentence, of course. I went ga ga over the thing. Piper glowed. Then she announced “Tomorrow I’m writing about my news boots!” Which are also pretty fabulous. Just like Piper.

She Sees You When You’re Sleeping

I have a stalker. Her name is Piper Mae.

She sleeps down the hallway behind a closed door. Yet she knows my every move.

If I get up in the middle of the night, she’s by my side. “I just happened to have to go, too, Mommy,” she says. “How about a quick hug since I’m here, you know?”

In the mornings I like to wake up early and write and blog. I’m careful not to make a sound. As soon as I lift the computer screen, though, Piper bursts through the door like she’s caught me. “I saw your light!”

“But it’s a laptop screen with just a tiny bit of light? How could you possibly see it?” I protest, throwing back the covers for the morning cuddle.

“I just know, Mommy. I always know where you are.”