Six Sentence Sunday and Blog Challenge – Year 7

Oh boy, maybe I’m getting in a bit too deep with all these challenges and things to remember. Pretty soon I won’t know whether I’m coming or going. It’s Sunday and I have two wonderful things to share with you today. First of all, one of my all-time favorites, Six Sentence Sunday, where I get to share a snippet of whatever I happen to be focused on for the moment, and secondly, my newest Blog Challenge, where I get to reminisce about my life one year at a time. I skipped age six but it’s just as well because I couldn’t come up with anything significant to say about it, and per the challenge, I need to write at least 25 posts during the month of October so it doesn’t hurt to skip one here or there. Today I focus on age seven.

Six Sentence Sunday, you go first. I’ll keep this brief. If you are interested in checking out the other participants, click HERE for the list. They are always fun to read.

So, pick a page, any page?? Pick a story, any story?? This is, indeed, the difficult part of the challenge. I’m going to hop back over to Nathanial and Sarah’s story even though I’ve not written anything new to add to it recently. I’m still stuck in la la land with no idea which way to run. Don’t you hate when that happens? There is so much from their story that I still haven’t shared, however.

If I have learned anything from my participation in Six Sentence Sunday over the weeks, it is the fact that I generally write really short sentences and a lot of dialogue. But here you go, I came across this little segment which I hope you will enjoy. Grandmamma had been kidnapped by the angerroots but now she’s inexplicably back and Sarah has a lot of questions about how and why, not to mention how their new (albeit handsome) neighbor Nathanial fits into the equation. We can assume at this point that Grandmamma is a lot more than she seems…

***

Grandmamma accepted the tray quietly and began eating with an appetite that Sarah was not accustomed to seeing in her. She lingered, trying to busy herself with cleaning up as she tried to find the right words to phrase her questions. It was a delicate subject to broach.

“Grandmamma,” she said at last, “Do you remember our nice neighbor Nathanial?”

Her grandmother stopped mid-bite and set down her spoon. She looked suspiciously at Sarah as though she had just said something illogical and when Sarah did not continue she huffed and went back to eating.

***

Next up, it’s the October Blog Challenge courtesy of Jane McLachlan and I’m focused today on years six and seven. Awww… look at me, growing up so quickly! It seems like only last week that I was just a baby and here I am in first … and second grade. Where does the time go?

First day of school, first grade. We sat in desks that had metal loops on the front. Not sure what the purpose of the loops would have been but several of the other kids were being silly sticking their feet through them while we waited not-so-patiently for the teacher to enter the room. Being the silly girl that I was, I stuck my feet through the loops as well, only mine didn’t slide right back out like the other kids’ did. My first introduction to my new teacher involved her taking off my shoes and disconnecting me from my desk. Enter embarrassing memory, number one!

Second grade I’d had enough of school so I quit. Well okay, I tried to quit. Actually, I remember it as first grade but my parents still insist that it was second grade, the infamous bad year for everyone in my family. They are probably right. I don’t know what possessed me to want to quit school. As far as I can remember, I’d always enjoyed it. I don’t remember having trouble with the work or any of the other kids at that point. I guess I just woke up one morning and said, nah, I don’t feel like it. Besides, baby brother got to stay home all day and play so why shouldn’t I? Being the Aries that I am, once I’d set my mind on it, that was it. There was no convincing me otherwise.

Therefore, second grade meant a torturous year of my parents trying to send me to the bus stop and me turning around midway and walking back to the house. My parents driving me to school and dragging me to the classroom kicking and screaming my head off. I held my own and insisted but I guess eventually they wore me down because in the end, I finished second grade and went on to third.

Later on down the road when my brother started second grade, he went through a similar experience. At this point, I’m hoping it’s not genetic and if it is, please tell me that I didn’t pass it along to my own kids. I have #1 starting second grade next year and I know I don’t have the patience that my parents had when they dealt with me. I am reminding time and again that my second born has inherited my stubborn streak. Perhaps he will be the one to carry on the family curse? Ah, the joy.

We shall see.

Thanks for stopping by to share my six and reminisce about my early years. It’s been fun. Come back tomorrow for year 8. (Another year closer to when I started writing!)

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