Hudson Boy by Asher

This is Hudson.  He is my cousin.  When you look at him he looks like a normal 2 year old.  But no, you are wrong.  He is disabled.  He has  something called Williams Syndrome.  Even though he is 2 years old, he only just began to walk.    dscn34880001

Also he may never know what 2+2 is his whole life.  Sounds dreadful, doesn’t it?  But it  isn’t.  He is a very happy boy who loves everyone and smiles all the time.  He makes friends everywhere he goes.  He loves drawing with permanent markers.  That is one of his favorite hobby’s, (if he can get a hold of one that is).  He also likes to climb up the steps, eat popsicles, and tries to get his brother’s things.  

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Every time I go to Texas, I always read him this book. It is a baby book called Funny Faces. It shows little babies making faces, and every time we get to a page that says, “Go away!  I’m angry!”  he would just laugh and try to say it too.

Last year when I went to Stepping Stones Montessori School, my friend Maddy and I did a report on Hudson and Williams Syndrome.  Hudson got to be there for the report and he spent the whole time crawling around the circle saying hi to everyone.

 

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One time when we were in Texas, Hudson and I had a pillow fight.  But then it turned into a tickle fight. 

 

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The last time we went down to Texas, we babysat Hudson and Harper.  One of my jobs every morning was to brush his teeth.  He would only let me brush his teeth if he could brush mine!  Hudson is one of my favorite people in the world.

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Peace and Justice Part II by Avy

Chapter One

 

I looked at myself. I had twigs in my hair and a rip in my dress. I ran to just the place I was heading to, Kings Head Tavern. I sat down at one of the tables and dumped all the pennies I was saving onto the table. “ Can I get you something?” asked a lady. “Umm” I thought hard. “Can I please have a chocolate bar?” I asked remembering my manners. “Certainly,” the lady replied, and rushed away to get my order. I looked out the window. I saw horses and carriages, people selling fruits, and then I saw something I hated to see. My mom was crying. She was carrying a basket of food. Suddenly, I was pouring my pennies back into my pocket. I left, not taking my order. I raced out the door and down to where my mom was standing.  She was selling food to a lady.  The lady walked away carrying potatoes and strawberries.  I hugged my mom and she hugged me back.  “Where were you?” she cried.  Then, I remembered my chocolate bar!  “I…I ordered a chocolate bar,” I stammered.  “Well, you scared the daylights out of me!” my mom half yelled into my ear.  “Can we just forget about it?” I asked.  “Yes,” sighed my mother, “but you have to go to bed without any dinner!”  “Ok,” I agreed. When I got home, I was sent straight to bed. Instead of going to bed, I lit a candle and shut the door. I got out my quill and ink and wrote a letter to my cousin. I told her what I had done, and she wrote back, saying that what I had done was called running away. She also wrote that if I did that again, she would never share her secrets with me in her letters.

 

 

November 18, 1812, 5:55 a.m.

 

I woke up in the morning to the sound of hoof beats. The horse stopped and someone knocked on our door. I looked out to see that there was a British solider standing on the doorstep. “Open up!” he yelled. But this time he poked the door with his gun, and it crashed to the ground. ”Oh no “! I cried. I struggled in the darkness trying to find my shift. “Oh never mind about my shift.” “I’ll just get it even more torn.”  I banged my door open and felt my way down the hall. Something moved underneath me. Suddenly, I knew who it was. It was the cat. I could tell because he was purring. I leaped over him, and ran down the steps. “Who are you?” I yelled. He didn’t move. I carefully took the musket from under his arm. I held the musket until I heard another crash upstairs. I took that as a signal to run up the stairs, give my dad the musket, and go back to sleep.