Now, let's get on with this. This digital book is just for me to wait and get inspiration in my dying times. These are most likely never going to be anything, so feel free to take the ideas. I really don't mind.
Now, this one is just to gain inspiration for a small story/ fanfiction on my main account. I hope this is injoyable.
"Max, it's time for breakfast sweetie!" Joan, a wonderful baker and mother, called out to her joyful ten year old.
Max yelped out a speedy reply from upstairs. He tapped and trotted along the in his room, from what his mother could hear from the ceiling above her. She heard him race down the stairs, and hastily slip on his shoes.
Soon enough, he was already at the table, banging his fist on the table with demands.
"I want pancakes! I want pancakes!" The little man shouted.
Joan chuckled drawn along with a sigh. "In a second, dear. Did you wash your hands?" Max nodded vigorously.
Joan turned away from her pancakes, to Max placing a hand on her hip.
"You better not be fibbing me, dear." Joan said in a fake serious tone.
Max slouched down gripping the table cloth and hid his face with it, giving his mother pleading eyes.
Joan gave her son the mad mother look. "Maxwell Harrison." she said sternly. "Wash your hands, now."
With a annyoyed look, Max slipped off seat, slumping over to the sink. He quickly rinsed his hands and bolted to his seat.
Joan continued her stare. "With soap?" she asked. "And dry them?" she added.
Max huffed and crossed his arms. But with one Stern look from his mother, he obliged with no further denial.
Once he finished and sat down, Joan set his plate down and glossed it with syrup. She set it down infront of him and let him dig in, ruffling his messy blonde hair.
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Yep, that's all, sorry about this. Didn't know where I was going with this. Let me know if I should continue.
Have a wonderful day folks!
