My Curly Rule Jolly Phonics · Step 3, Unit 6: /ie/ mixed

Girl has a rule. A big rule, for all time. Curly is the best, and straight is not. She hangs upside down and lets her hair show it. Her curls bounce high, and each curl springs back with a pop. 'See that?' she says with a smug grin. 'Straight hair can not do that.'

Her sister lies flat on her back. Her straight hair shines like gold in the light. 'My hair stays where I put it,' says her sister. 'Can curls do that?' 'Dull,' says the Girl. But she thinks the gold shine is a fine sight. Just a wee bit.

Girl sets out to test her rule. Her cat comes too, tail in a tight curl. A beast hangs upside down, tail coiled tight. A little beast sits by with a tail like a sweet bun. 'Team Curl!' Girl calls, and gives her cat a pat. 'See? Curly is best.' The cat purrs. That counts as a yes.

Then the Girl meets a horse, a cow, and a big beast. All three tails hang straight down. 'Good day, big beast,' the Girl says, because it is best to be sweet to a big beast. 'That tail is a fine sight. So straight. So... not curly.' The beast just flicks the gold tip on its tail. It is not so keen on that chat.

The Girl finds steps that twist up and up and up. She grips the rail and starts up. 'What a sight!' she says low. 'Steps can be curly too!' Each step bends into the next. 'Straight steps could not be so grand.' Down below, she thinks, her sister just takes the lift.

The Girl sits and rests her chin on her hands. Her cat curls up by her side like a soft sweet bun, tail in a tight twirl. 'What else is curly?' she asks. 'What else is straight? And is the curly thing best all the time?' She thinks. 'Yes,' she says. 'It is. It just is.'

A pic in a frame shows it. There is the Girl up on a high peak, with her big grin. The path she took twists all the way up. 'A straight path would go up the cliff,' the Girl says. 'I would drop off it. That curly path kept me safe.' She nods. That is a fact.

Then the Girl grabs a pen and tries to make straight lines. The lines bend. The lines twist. She tries and tries. Each line ends up more bent. One line turns into a curly mark! 'This is fine,' the Girl says with a frown. 'Straight lines are just hard because they are not as good. Yes. That must be why.'

But when she makes curly lines? They loop and swirl like vines, like waves on the sea, like a track that dips under a hill. 'See?' The Girl lifts up the sheet. 'Curly lines come easy to a girl with curly hair. It is a fact.' It is not a fact. But the lines are a fine sight.

The Girl finds two big buns, gold and curled up tight. Each bun is so big she might put one on as a hat. 'Curly food!' she gasps. 'The best kind!' Her cat peeks out from one bun and licks its lips. 'Sly little cat!' the Girl cries. 'Buns are for eating, not for hiding in!'

Three curly buns sit in a neat line, each one a tight swirl. The Girl peers at them. Hard. This is big. One bun might be more curly. One might have the best swirl. 'What if I do not pick the best one?' she asks. Picking the best curl is the hardest thing she has done all day.

Then the Girl checks the shelf and stops. Curly snacks. Straight sticks. Swirly puffs and flat crackers. Each shape, each kind, all in one spot. And they all look so good. The Girl grins. 'Fine,' she says. 'Maybe straight things are not so bad. But just when they are snacks.' She grabs the lot. 'I should ring my pals. We can all eat tonight. My sister can bring the straight ones.'