You see, my kids just spent the evening penning their first novels.

Yeah, you heard me.

Instead of merely being content tackling their classroom’s required reading, my budding authors decided that they were going to write their own stories and read them to each other thankyouverymuch.

I was overjoyed to hear them in their rooms writing away on their notepads and devising new plot points for their characters.  It was adorable!  (As you know, this Mamma loves books and always has.  It has been an obsession since my youth.)

But at this point, I am afraid that their little projects have spun out of control.

My oldest now wants his book sent to a publisher. And he would like that publisher to make his book into a movie.  Like, pronto.  Meaning – tomorrow.  Or at least by next weekend before our Blockbuster goes out of business.

He is unbelievably serious about this.

Oh dear.

There wouldn’t happen to be any publishers reading this right now that are interested in a story about a princess who finds a secret world? I, um, think she gets eaten by a cat.

Riveting, I tell you.