Day one:

I paint a cow with my grandma.

I squirt out too much paint from her tubes.

It looks expired but I don’t tell her.

She cries when I leave.

Day two:

My cousin makes us five star omelettes.

He drives us home with one shoe on.

We listen to old music.

I can’t stop laughing.

Day three:

I almost lose my head with my uncle.

We pass the soccer ball with our foreheads.

I run while the sun sets.

I fall asleep with a headache and a smile.

Day four:

I watch my first horror movie next to a horse.

Not a horse, just a big dog.

She leaves the room before the scary parts.

I stay up all night.

Day five:

I almost forget to say goodbye.

I eat an apple.

I hug grandma.

She cries like after I painted my cow.

Day six:

I watch a lady give herself a foot massage.

She looks like serious business when she sits down.

But then she starts digging between her toes.

I’ve never been more eager to get off a plane.

Day seven:

My lizard loses his dinner.

My sister's friend dangles a hornworm on her finger.

She asks to keep it as a pet.

That lucky worm.

Day eight:

My dog befriends a sea lion.

To be fair, it looks like a dog.

She scares it back into the water.

She’s not very good at making friends.

Day nine:

I wait for school to start.

There's nothing fun left to do. 

I sit down and write a poem about my days of summer.