My Little Storyteller

Yael went to a playdate on Thursday (no school) and she came home with a book that she'd created with her friend.

"I wrote the words and she illustrated it," my daughter told me.

"But I told her what to draw," she said.

"Sam" is the simple title of the book. ("We wanted to call it 'About Sam Sommer' but 'Sam' seemed easier," she said.)

I'm going to let it speak for itself (with a little translation under each photo, in case you don't read First Grade) and probably not comment on how much like her mother she is.

Here is how Sam got sick

One day Sam and my mom and dad took Sam to the hospital.
I went to the hospital almost every day.

The doctor said that Sam had to stay at the hospital for 4 summers.
(oh, Yaelie. It only felt like four summers. It felt like forever.)

I was sad when I found out that he had to stay at the hospital.
We stayed at RMH (Ronald McDonald House) for one summer.

Sam was my favorite brother. I miss him so much. (the illustration is, she told me, of his funeral)
On the 14th I never stopped crying.

One morning when I got up I asked my mom where is the nurse and Sam. She said that he was dead.

Then Rabbi Steve came and talked to us.
Then we had a funeral. The end.

P.S. In case you're wondering (I know you are), she was very enthusiastic about my sharing all of this with all of you, and she read over my shoulder as I posted, to ensure that she was quoted accurately.

So many people ask me how the kids are doing. They have lots of people-who-aren't-their-parents watching over them and they seem to be okay. This is just one glimpse into Yael's mind...