A book and story by Abigail June Scheidler as dictated to Gramma.
Ghost Colors
There was a mother ghost who had five children. When she went to the grocery store she always bought ice cream and milk which was all her family needed to keep them white.
One day while the mother was out shopping, one of the children found blueberries in the refrigerator. He was very hungry, but when he ate them he turned blue.
Another child drank the Jamba Juice that was in the frig an he turned green just like the juice.
Then the next child found some red potatoes to eat and he turned red.; the next ate cherries and turned very very red – even redder than the other red child!
The next child who was hungry tried lemons and turned yellow; his friend had some oranges and turned orange and the one who ate cheese turned orange too; but the friend who ate crackers turned yellow.
When the mom came home she found that her kids had turned all the colors of the rainbow. She fed them milk and ice cream right away and they all turned white again.
And they lived happily ever after. The End.
Comentary:
“ this is the greatest book ever! Abby
At this time of life Abby's imagination is MUCH more advanced than her ability to draw or write about what she sees in her head. So we have agreed that for future books I will be the scribe and she will do the illustrations and make up the stories. For this first book we ran into trouble fitting all the necessary words on the page. Gramma
Her second book is an "instruction book" for me on how to make dresses with twirl skirts..."so you won't have to work so hard, gramma".
2 comments:
Amazing...I love her creative mind.
We play a similar game to and from the Mall in the car."Let's do the story game, Poppa" is her usual overture so we usually do a really silly story based on what we're seeing at the moment - like WUAT there was a black car driving to the mall with this really amazing princess named Harriet in the back seat -- then immediate protest, NO! that's not her name!", etc. When it's her turn she'll usually embellish my story then back and forth until we run out of silliness. Or we'll take turns singing the song, "Or would you rather be a (animal)?" The joy, of course, is that in either case her whole heart and soul is in the telling and in the details of the fantasy even if the inevitable temptation is to quickly sink into pure nonsense. And always, she reminds me that staying childlike with her like this brings out the pure happiness of being a grand parent. Had you told me when I was a father that my grandchildren would bring me this repeated pleasure I wouldn't have really believed you.
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