I want to be 7

I have a job. It's not a paying job yet, but I hope to change that in the near future. I'm working at CFAY media which runs the newspaper and television news for the base. Because I have a lot of experience writing, they have a lot of confidence in my abilities. I hope I can live up to their expectations.

Today, I went to interview a high school student, but I wish I could write a story about her little brother too. By sheer luck and coincidence I met him and his mother in the elevator. He seemed very interested in who I was and what exactly I was up to. I told him I was going to write a story about his sister for the newspaper. That seemed okay with him.

As we were walking into their apartment I asked him how old he was. "7-and-a-half." When you're 7 that half year makes all the difference.

I settled at the kitchen table with a notebook in front of me and began interviewing the girl. He watched from his seat at the kitchen counter for a while, but soon he was at my elbow watching me scribble. I moved my arm a little so he could see what I was doing and tried not to draw too much attention to him so his mother wouldn't get self consious and try to get rid of him. His sister finally shooed him away.

A few minutes later he interrupted us to ask. "How do you write while you're staring at her face like that?"

I grinned. "It takes a lot of practice, but you could learn to do it too. And it makes my handwriting really messy see?" I tipped the pad so he could see it.

His mother said, "and she can still read it."

"Yeah," I said, "maybe I should learn short hand to make it easier."

"My hands are short." The kid said. I laughed. His mother laughed. His sister laughed. Poor kid. He didn't even know what was funny. Maybe he'll grow up to be a writer.

I leave you today with the enlightened answer given by Amy Carter, Pres. Carter's daughter, when asked if she had any message for the children of America, "No."