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“Mom, can I write in my journal?”
How do you say no to that?
BigBrother brought out his journal, his crayon and pencil bag and sat down at the table while I busied myself with post-dinner and general evening clean up chores. LittleBrother saw what was going on and ran to get his notebook and writing utensils. They sat together, writing in their separate spaces and chattering at loud volumes.
I took a load of laundry downstairs. I laid out clothes for tomorrow. I finished the dishes. No one bothered me or pulled on my pant leg or whined or argued or even got out of a chair. I turned around to find them still at the table, crayons and pencils all over the all ready cluttered table. But instead of writing in two separate notebooks, they were writing in one.
“I know, I’ll write BOOM! here, next to the man.” Then he sounded out the word, helping himself as he went along. “Oo. The oo sound comes from two o’s. Boom!”
“Yeah! Now we need to draw a big circle thingy over here!” LittleBrother pointed and BigBrother obliged.
I stood in silence, taking in the moment before reaching for my camera.
“We’re drawing our own comic book, Mommy. Like George and Harold in Captain Underpants!”
“That’s fantastic.”
They continued on for much longer than I expected, even after we had an explosion of pencil shavings right after I finished cleaning up the floor. They were entranced with their story, with their drawings, with helping each other.
As we got ready for bed, they continued to talk about their masterpiece, the book that they were going to write.
“I can be the illustrator. And the writer. I can be both, right Mommy?”
I told him that he could; that he could be anything he wanted to be.
“I’ll let LittleBrother be both too, of course.”
Of course.
We finished our evening activities reading another chapter of Captain Underpants together. It’s the second book with the talking toilets. Yum yum, eat ‘em up and all that jazz. Toilet, poop and fart jokes are apparently going to be a part of my life for a long time to come, and quite possibly I’m raising my own little George and Harold. Which, if you think about it, is better than raising Harold and Kumar, right?
So thank you, George, Harold, Mr. Krupp, Captain Underpants, the Turbo Toilet 2000 and the Robo-Plunger for the hour that my boys spent creating and laughing and BOOM!-ing and dreaming of writing their own book. Don’t tell me that nothing good ever came out of toilet humor.
Because this? This is good.
For my last fire book review this week, I thought I would hit on one we’ve had for a few months and enjoy reading. 
is a cute book written by 
My name is Jenna, aka FireMom. I blog here, 
