So I was going thru our emails tonight, and found an email to my 12 year old son from his cousin. Attached at the bottom of his cousin's email was the email my son had first sent to him. After reading it, I went to my son's room to see if he was asleep, and motioned with my finger to him to come to me.

He got out of bed and followed me into the living room, whispering, "Am I in trouble?"

"I don't know," I said. "I just read this email you sent to T, and it looks like you copied it from one of your technical manuals.  Which is fine, except you told T and his dad that you wrote it yourself."

"Yeah," he said. He looked concerned.

"Jacob, that's called plagiarism," I said.

"No, Mom," he said. "Plagiarism is when you copy someone else's stuff and call it yours."

"That's what I'm saying," I said.

"But I didn't copy someone else's stuff. I made that up myself," he said, starting to grin.

"Look, Jacob," I said.  "This is not the writing of a 12 year old.  It's more like...well, like an older guy would write. Like maybe a man or a really smart teenager.  I know you didn't write this. And I can help you figure out a way to tell T and his dad that you blew it if you want."

He started laughing. "This is great, Mom!  You really think I did that good of a job?"

Tim came in to see what was going on.  I told him.  We both looked at Jacob, his grin splitting his face in half, his body practically dancing with laughter.

Tim started laughing too. "Shurleen, all he does is read technical manuals.  It would follow that he could write like the stuff he reads. Aren't you always saying that a well read person can be a good writer? What is that thing you say?  'Prolific readers make good writers.'"

"Yeah," I said. "But...this...I just didn't expect...I didn't realize how right I was."

Jacob hugged me tight and said, "Thank you so much for thinking I lied. That made me feel so good that you think I write that well."

Oh brother.  I failed big time and still came out smelling like a rose. This is the true meaning of grace.

"Ok. Ok. I believe you," I said. "I won't ever think this kind of thing of you again. I'm really sorry. I blew it. I admit it. I'm a great teacher."

"No, Mom. You can do it again. This was great! Hey! Can I read it out loud to you guys?"

*******************************************************************

Below is the email.  I'm laughing at myself now. If I had actually caught the "Duracell battery" part, I would have saved myself some trouble. Of course, my son wouldn't have recieved what he considered to be a tremendous pat on the back.

*******************************************************************