Saturday, July 19, 2008

Physical Description

Since today has been ultra boring - a lot of yard work, house cleaning, and grocery shopping... and the most exciting thing that I have done is a toss up between vacuuming the mini-blinds and cleaning the fan blades... I thought that I'd share my two latest returned assignments from my writing program.

This first one I was assigned to write a physical description of a child... I was having trouble figuring out which child in my life to choose, and I was sitting in my craft room. I looked over and saw a picture of one of my nieces named Taylor on the day of her first ballet class... I used that as my inspiration, and this is what I wrote... (also the picture that served as my inspiration)


As I sat in the tan leather chair, the door opened quickly and hit the wall. She ran inside covered in dirt, and her hair all over the place. Her blue jeans were dusty and her lime green shirt had muddy hand prints all over it. She threw her papers down on the table and climbed on the couch. She sat down to watch a cartoon on television, but heard her mom calling, “Taylor, come get a bath before ballet. HURRY!”

Slowly, she started to get up, but for as long as possible her little sapphire eyes never left the television screen. At first she cried, “The water is too hot!” That was quickly followed by giggling, and splashing.

About 5 minutes past, and she glided across the room with her light brown hair wet, her body dripping, and she was wrapped up tight in a fluffy pink towel. She plopped herself on the couch, again, to watch the rest of the television show. Her Mom calls her, “Taylor, we’re going to be late… come get dressed!”

She looks up at me and smiles a mischievous smile as she gets up to go back into her room. A moment later, I hear her cry, “Ow, stop it, you’re hurting me… you’re brushing too hard!” She cried for several minutes, but reappeared looking like a pretty little princess.

She had her long hair tied up in a ponytail with a pink satin ribbon, but little ringlets were surrounding her face. She was wearing pink tights, a jet black leotard, a black skirt with tiny pink roses around the waist, and tiny pink ballet slippers with bows on top. Her Mom was following behind pulling the tags off of each item she was wearing.

She looked up at me with her face glowing, and asked, “Do I look like a ballerina?” As soon as the words were spoken, there was no time to answer because she blazed into the house and was gone again. The door swung open hitting the wall, and the door slammed closed behind her. Taylor was on her way to her first ballet class.