One of my biggest, most politically incorrect confession is this: I abhor homework for my kids. This year I am taking a different approach because oftentimes one of the teachers, especially, sends Samuel home with work he didn’t get done in class. He and I then have a dialog about the work and get it done.
He knows I am in close contact with his teachers and we are all a team. He has a long day at his afterschool program and frequently isn’t home until 6. I believe in the power of play and don’t like harnessing him with more work after a full-of-work day.
Today he needed to turn in a story about a missing turkey.
There is an illustration to go with it.
I gave Emma the task of finishing it with Samuel last night as I had a meeting to go to rather than do homework. All three of us had a hand in what we have now declared a new holiday classic which is destined to be shared at least for one generation after this.
We decided you could join us in search of… a rather unusual (did I mention talking?) turkey. Or perhaps it is a very listening, tuned in farmer named Frank who is unusual.
Have You Seen Taylor the Turkey?
My name is Frank the Farmer and the strangest thing has happened here on my farm this week. My favorite turkey, Taylor, has disappeared! Just like that! I don’t know if he has been turkey-napped, or if he hitch-hiked or if he just walked away from the farm but I do know I miss him a lot.
Taylor isn’t your everyday turkey. He has lots of unusual colors in his feathers. He has orange and green and yellow and even a stretch of purple feathers. Some people say he looks like a “peacock turkey.” He walks around the farm yard showing off his feathers. The girl turkeys all blush when he comes around because so many of them have crushes on him. He doesn’t brag about it, he is even nice to the least pretty of the girl turkeys because he doesn’t want her to feel sad.
I went into the barn on Friday to feed everybody and I found a bunch of seed missing from my feed bags. There was also a stick missing and some rope. Right by the seed were an orange and a purple feather. I asked some of the girl turkeys if they saw what happened.
Marie-the-Turkey said she hadn’t seen anything. Beth-the-Turkey ran away, scared, when I talked to her. She is a scaredy Turkey. Lucy-the-Turkey-Gossip confessed she had heard Taylor and Carly, the not-so-pretty-on-the-outside-but-beautiful on the inside Turkey with a map out and making a plan to run away to the Turkey Haven, a place where all Turkeys are safe from the Thanksgiving Rush.
I was shocked. “Isn’t my farm a Turkey Haven?” I asked Lucy.
Lucy laughed. “That Taylor is just a show off, anyway, and without Carly here we each have more food.”
I was so sad all day on Thanksgiving. It wasn’t the same not having Taylor to watch parade around the farm yard. I tried not to show it because I don’t like the others to feel like he is my favorite. I cleaned out the stall and gave my daughter a bouquet of Taylor’s colorful feathers to make a centerpiece for the Thanksgiving dinner.
Friday morning, I thought I heard Taylor’s laughing clucks and looked out the window.
He and Carly were back! I grabbed them and said, “Isn’t this a Turkey Haven, too?”
They looked
confused. “Farmer Frank, we went to Las Turkey Vegas to get married! We
wouldn’t leave here forever. We had to come back to make our home here and have
baby turkeys here.”
We were so happy, we threw a party to celebrate: all the turkeys, the cows, the pigs, the horses and the chickens came. Hooray!
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© 2012 by Julie Jordan Scott
