phonetics.

This is the poem that Peter wrote.

This is the poem that Peter wrote that hangs on the wall in his second grade classroom.
This is the poem that Peter wrote that hangs on the wall in his second grade classroom making me wonder if phonetic spelling is really all the teachers crack it up to be.
This is the poem that Peter wrote that hangs on the wall in his second grade classroom and is supposed to read goodbye beach, hello leaves.  But doesn’t quite.
This is the poem that Peter wrote that hangs on the wall in his second grade classroom that made me blush on a recent visit.
This is the poem the Peter wrote that hangs on the wall of his second grade classroom that prompted this response to his teacher, “Well, looks like spelling might be a focus area for this year, huh?”
This is the poem that Peter wrote that hangs on the wall of his second grade classroom that I’ve looked at several times this weekend and laughed out loud, then quickly switched screens so the kids wouldn’t see.
Goodbye Summer.  Hello Fall.
Adios phonetic spelling.  Hey there dictionary.
This wouldn’t be nearly as funny if he weren’t Verdelle.  This boy who has chocolate eyes and awesome hair and is totally his own kid.  Who thinks his baby sister is the greatest thing since sliced bread and reads to her every night on the blue couch in her room.  This boy who has invented his own pseudo swear that we can’t chastise him for because it’s totally clean and really funny: schminn.  Says it all the time.  Means “shoot!” or “crap!”.
Who decided on his own to be a clown for Halloween, even though I think clowns are creepy and even though every other boy in the second grade dressed up like a Power Ranger.  
And the girls at the bus stop wonder why I follow him to the doors, chanting, “Birdy, good luck on your spelling test.  Remember teeeeeth.  T-e-e-t-h.”
Oh, schminn.
This is me being real.  And Peter.  This is him being real too.

One Reply to “phonetics.”

  1. Oh! that boy just grabs me deep down in my heart and stays treasured there forever. He reminds me so much of his mother, that my eyes well up with the sheer bliss of reliving those long ago memories.

    love you and Peter deep

    Like

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