my writing practice
It's cold, Ma. I don't like it here. Dad said wait a little longer. I don't know why. I think he told me to wait for the flower to... What was it? Bu loom? I don't want to wait. I know Ma will love this flower.
Ma sleeps on black. I don't like it. Ma liked red. I told the man in the black suit Ma liked red. He didn't listen. I don't like him. But I like Ma.
I know Ma will like my flower, because it's my flower, and it's red, so Ma will like it. Because Ma likes me.
The car is cold. I don't like it. Ma doesn't like it, but she's not here.
Dad said Ma needs sleep.
I am cold, but I am good. Dad holds my hand, his is warm, so I am warm.
My flower is red. Dad holds my flower. Dad knows my flower is the bestest.
I like my flower. It's red and big, bigger than my friend's. But I don't like it now. Dad said he wanted to borrow my flower, but he doesn't let me play with it.
He's hugging it, and he's crying. I asked him why. He said the flower was too biu ti ful.
I like it. I know Dad likes it. I know Ma likes it. Because Ma likes me.