Tranquility Falls sparkled in the distance as I pulled up to the trailhead with Brayden. My son opened the car door and wrinkled his nose at the pine-scented air. He quickly gulped down his juice pouch, his thirst apparent. I couldn't help but notice that Brayden seemed less excited than usual for our annual camping trip.
The day before, I had broken the news to Brayden that he would be spending the rest of his vacation in summer school, studying algebra. No skateboarding with friends, no swimming at the pool. Just six long weeks of solving for x. I saw him chewing on his straw, his empty juice pouch hanging in front of him. He grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulders.
“Leave your trash in the car, we’ll have to carry it all back - pack it in, pack it out,” I called out to Brayden as I started up the trail ahead. I locked the car and impatiently urged him to hurry up. "Let’s go, Slowpoke! The first night festivities are waiting!" Brayden groaned and pushed the juice pouch into his back pocket before following me up the trail. The disappointment in his eyes was hard to miss.
Rewrite the first three paragraphs of the story from the father's point of view. Be sure to include details that clearly show how the story changes when experienced from the father's viewpoint.
Tranquility Falls Tranquility Falls glittered like fine sugar in the distance as Brayden and his father pulled up to the trailhead. Brayden opened the car door and recoiled at the sharp scent of pine. He was very thirsty so he drank his juice pouch in one sip.
Brayden could not muster his usual enthusiasm for their annual father-son camping trip. The day before, Brayden’s parents had broken the news to him that he would be spending the remainder of his vacation studying algebra in summer school. Six weeks of finding the value of x. No skateboarding with his friends or swimming at the community pool. Brayden chewed on his straw, the empty juice pouch hovering in front of his face. He hoisted his backpack and slung its straps over his shoulders.
“Leave your trash in the car or we’ll just have to carry it back—pack it in, pack it out,” yelled his father, already twenty yards up the trail. The car chirped as his father locked it too quickly for Brayden to do as he was asked. “Let’s go, Slowpoke! First night festivities await!” Brayden groaned, stuffed the juice pouch into his back pocket, and followed his father up the trail.
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