Z does a lot of storytelling and playing with words. A lot.

Under the reef
And under the sky,
A pouting fish
Wants to cry

Sometimes he asks me to write them down, like he did with this poem. And this story . . .

Thor the Thunder Orc


In the house there is an old widow. But there was a particular enemy that lived up up up in the tallest mountain. With a forest next to it. And that forest was not just a normal forest, it was a dark deep spooky forest. And this was not just a normal dark spookiness. It was a murky spooky forest.

But that forest had three dwarves that were living there. But not just normal dwarves, they were ale ale ale dwarves. But that had a particular yumminess too. That was a seed cake.

But there was an orc in the tallest mountain. But that orc wasn’t just a normal orc. That was Thor, the Thunder Orc!

But there was a particular treasure that the orc owned.  It was a ruby diamond.  But that was just a normal diamond.  And that orc had a favorite thing to eat.  That was dwarves!

The orc had a particular two other treasures.  Those were golden boots. But that wasn’t just normal boots. That was magical golden boots!  But then the dwarves decided to take a walk on the mountain.  But that wasn’t the smartest plan for dwarves to do.

Because orc ate dwarves. But the favorite thing to do of the orc was not just to eat dwarves, it was to feast on dwarves! There was also another treasure that the orc owned.  hat was ruby slippers. That wasn’t just it of the treasure. There was one golden emerald but that wasn’t just a normal emerald. That was an enchanted emerald. When the dwarves came onto the mountain in the top of the mountain where the hole was, the orcs ate the dwarves.

Then the dwarves chopped off the head of the orc and came out. They were Viking dwarves.

The End

These stories and poems and drips and drabs of his mind become a prized possession for Z.  He asks me to read them in lieu of “books” and shares them as a way to connect with others.

For me, they go beyond a view into his imagination and help me to see why he gets so frustrated when it comes to writing and making art.  Very often, Z just doesn’t have the small motor skills to execute what he sees in his mind.  It’s a constant struggle to honor his desire to create through dictation while subtly encouraging him to try to produce on his own.

This book struck a chord with Z when I brought it home from the library this week.

I’m looking forward to helping Z balance  his drive for perfection with more Ish-ish endeavors, especially by modeling new learning adventures for myself. Knitting and sewing have been two areas particularly ripe for showing growth through mistakes.