It’s Not All Mary Poppins

Spring is coming…

soonish…
p3

In the interests of full disclosure, though

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these pictures

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were taken

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two weeks ago.

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We’re getting there!

March 13, 2013 Posted by | Canada, Ottawa, outings | , , | 5 Comments

Mystery Solved … by SCIENCE!

We were reading Ezra Jack Keats’ The Snowy Day yesterday. Absolute classic children’s story about a little boy exploring the snow. We will be trying out some of Peter’s ideas in the coming days.

We’ll walk with our toes pointed out, we’ll walk with our toes pointed in. We’ll drag our feet to make tracks, and make tracks with stick. We might even try snowballs!

I’ve done all that before with small children. Yesterday, though, I stumbled across something new. When Peter goes in for the evening, he puts a snowball in his pocket for the next day. When he checks on his snowball before bed … it’s gone!

“Where did it go?” I asked the children. Because of course you chat about your books as you read. “Where did Peter’s snowball go?

Blink.
Blink.
Blink.

Three pairs of eyes gaze back at me. Full of blankness. No inspiration there, at all, at all.

I point to the suspicious spot on the outside of his coat. “It sure looks like his coat is wet. Why would his pocket be wet like that?” Hint, hint…

Nope. More blankness. They truly don’t know.

Well, now. This calls for some investigation! So out we go to the front porch. Well, in the interests of efficiency, out I go. Scoop up a small bowl of snow, and bring it in. We peer into the depths and make our observations.

We discover that the snow is white, and cold, and a bit prickly under our fingers. (I think the “prickly” was their way of describing the ice crystals in there, or maybe just the intense cold on a warm fingertip.)

We put the bowl on the table and went away. Every few minutes we’d come back and have another look. And damned if the snow wasn’t getting smaller! And now there was water in the bowl, too! And maybe, maybe the snow isn’t as white as it was?

A few minutes later, we’re sure. No, the snow isn’t so white. In fact, it’s getting clearer. And there’s even more water in there!

Any ideas why?

Nope.

Not
one
single
clue.

It’s a mystery! Isn’t that exciting?!?

When the bowl is largely a small collection of watery slush, I give them each a tiny dollop of snow in their palms.

“Just hold it, guys. Hold your hands still and watch that snow. Tell me what happens to it.”

It’s a matter of seconds before each small pink palm holds nothing more than an even smaller puddle. They peer into their hands. They look at me.

“Well. Where’s the snow?”

Rory knows. “It’s GONE!”

“It certainly is! Where did it go?”

Blink.
Blink.
Blink.

“You had snow in your hands. Now you have water. What happened to the snow?”

A light goes on in Grace’s face.

“Water!! At water! The snow is gone at water!”

And lo, there is much rejoicing, for verily, Grace is right. The snow is gone at water! I toss around some more words, including “frozen”, “warm”, and “melting”, but we have got the gist of it.

The snow is gone at water.

Toddler science is so fun.

😀

January 5, 2012 Posted by | books, Developmental stuff, Grace | , , , , | 8 Comments

Lyrical only goes so far

912snowflakes1“Look, Mary! The moon is out!”

It is in fact the sun, so heavily shrouded by clouds and falling snow that its brilliance is muted to a mellow white glow. It could well be the moon. I start to say as much, but Anna is still talking.

“The moon is my friend. The moon likes me, because I was born on a full moon.”

Anna has obviously heard the story of her birth night many times. It is part of her personal mythology. “I like the moon, and the moon likes me, because I am a moon-girl.”

She is. Pale and fair, though her beauty radiates life; none of the moon’s delicacy. She’s also sun and storm, blustery gale and spring zephyr. All seasons is our lyrical Anna.

“When the moon sees me, it is happy because I am his moon-girl.” And then, in quicksilver Anna style, she tips her face skyward, chin up, rosy cheeks a platform for the falling snow. Until she opens her mouth.

“I’m catching snowflakes with my mouth! I’m eating the snowflakes!”

“What do they taste like?” I ask, curious. What do snowflakes taste like, to this child of moods and passions, romance and myth?

She crinkles her face and grins at me. Grin grows into a smoky-deep chortle, then a full-fledged belly laugh, rising from her very boots.

“They taste like snowflakes, of course!”

January 19, 2009 Posted by | Anna, individuality, the cuteness! | , , , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments