The Chris Evans Breakfast Show ran a 500 word writing challenge for children and my son decided to have a go at it. He loved writing the story and was thrilled when we got the email to say he got through the first selection round - where they selected 3000 out of over 90,000 stories to go forward. He was disappointed to get the next email saying his story didn't get into the final round but we're all so proud of him and he's taken the story into school to read it out
So, here's his entry and I hope you'll enjoy it as much as we have.
Doughnut Dad
Max was on his way up to bed. I hate vegetables, he thought. He’d had another row with dad that night. Dad wanted him to eat sprouts and Max had just pushed them round his plate, saying he’d rather have doughnuts for supper.
That night Max dreamt of having doughnuts every day.
The next morning when he woke-up he went downstairs to breakfast and when he went into the kitchen he found three doughnuts on a plate!
‘Hip-hip-hooray,’ he shouted.
He took a bite.
‘Mmmmmmm. Melted chocolate doughnuts,’ he said.
Dad came in. ‘Come on,' he said. ‘Let’s go see haunted doughnut mountain in the cinema!’
‘Hooray,' shouted Max again.
After the movie, they went out for lunch. Dad ordered five doughnuts for each of them.
‘Yum,’ said Max, when their rainbow coloured plate of doughnuts arrived.
Every meal for the next ten days, Max’s dad gave him doughnuts and nothing else. No tasty sausages, no delicious chicken, no softly, flaking fish. No chips or creamy potatoes. No squishy parcels or ribbons of pasta coated in Italian sauces, bursting with flavour. No bread. And not even ONE, SINGLE VEGETABLE!
Max could feel his teeth rotting. They were starting to hurt from all that sugar, even if he cleaned them ten times a day.
On the tenth night, Max climbed the stairs to bed. His tummy ached and his feet plodded with a thump on each step. He was fed-up. Once more he cleaned his teeth but he was sure the sugar continued to cling to them. Then he curled up in bed.
Dad came in. ‘You’re very quiet tonight,’ he said, sitting down on the edge of Max’s bed.
‘My tummy hurts from all those doughnuts and my teeth are stinging.’
‘I see,’ said dad. ‘Sounds like you’re a bit bored of doughnuts.’
‘I know you love them and all,’ said Max, sitting up. ‘But could I please have something different!’
‘Well,’ dad said thoughtfully. ‘Tomorrow is Sunday. I’ll see what I can do.’
Dad tucked Max up and ruffled his hair. Max fell asleep and in his dreams he imagined a big plate of roast potatoes, Yorkshire pudding and beef in a pool of thick, dark gravy. He licked his lips, almost able to taste the big mound of mashed carrots and parsnips, a well in the centre containing a curl of melting butter. 'Mmmm. Vegetables,' he called out in his sleep.
