Jemma beamed with pride. She had worked hard for nearly twenty minutes—rubbing her head to start the ideas flowing... drawing a lively picture of squarish shapes and round smiling faces... and laboriously forming words: “I wet too The parc aN I plad on The swigs.” She had even done a full stop at the end.
“You've really made progress with your writing,” I added.
Jemma took a deep breath. “One day,” she promised—“one day, I gonna write a story a HUNDRED WORDS LONG.”