My mom told me to plant a story, so I took my pencil
shovel and planted her past. I planted my mom and my
uncle as kids. My uncle Joe would always get into
trouble. My mom would too, because my uncle played
marbles with his friends, and my mom would whine
because she wanted to play. So my uncle would have to
take care of her everywhere they went or he would get
in trouble. I took my pencil shovel and I planted my
mom as a kid, and she was happy to remember.

By David, 3rd grade

Photo by sGrace via Flickr

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