Jason lived at number thirty-two Person Street. He is eight years old and he is a superman...no, astronaut. Actually, Jason, who lives at thirty-two Person Street, who is eight years old, is a flamingo. He was standing at the beach, talking to his flamingo-y friends. Then creeeeaaaak! The door opened. Mum came in.
"Mum, I told you not to interrupt my daydreams," said Jason angrily.
"Well," said Mum, "I think I should interrupt your daydreams, for it is time for you to get dressed and go to school."
Jason sighed.
Grumpily, he put on his trousers and packed his school bag. He felt cheeky today, so he packed his favourite packet snack of cheesy frizzles and a quite yummy lunch of fish and chips.
Later that day, at school, Mr. Perkins was teaching a very boring lesson on the history of toilet rolls.
Jason sighed. "Blah blah blah. I've had enough of how the ancient Greeks used sponges on sticks to clean their bottoms. It doesn't seem very nice."
That night...
Slump. Clash. Bang.
“Jason, can you help with the dishes? I just need you to help because one of them broke, and I need it tidied up."
"Fine," said Jason.
After the dishes, Jason ran upstairs. Tripped over his school bag and landed headfirst on the carpet.