Well, it happened again. Peter wrote another story. Actually, we wrote it together (see if you can spot the places that are mine), but it was him about 70%, I'd say. Maybe 73.65%. Yeah, that sounds about right. Anyway, we were eating lunch. Russian shchi! So we started talking about soup, and he came up with this idea about a boy who has to eat soup but doesn't eat soup, and his grandma gets angry at him for not eating soup. Then it got really weird, and he was excited to write it down.

"But you said you don't want to be a writer?" I teased him.
"Oh, it's not writing. This is just for fun," he said.
"Okay, I see. That's what it should always be, you know? Writing is fun."
"Come on, mom. Let's do it!"

So we did. Here is the result.