My mommy is a writer. br She has stories in her head. br I hear her typing late at night br when I am in my bed. br br I like to read the things she writes, br well, the kids’ stuff anyway. br The other stuff’s too old for me, br but I can read that, too, someday. br br She calls me her inspiration br for the poetry she writes. br I guess that means I’m pretty smart br for someone just my size. br br Boy, grownups sure are funny. br I don’t understand, sometimes. br I like to make up stories, too... br but they call them little white lies.br br C.J.