Is it not Life tries to ruse
by preaching riches can amuse?
The unpretentious
conscientious
find true meaning in life’s clues.
Locked Down? Let Your breath travel – 8
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Category Archives: children
Finding things to do with Kids!
You may have seen my previous post about being locked down with my hubby, daughter, and two grandkids. As I type this, my four-year-old granddaughter is sitting beside me on the desk chair while my two-year-old is blowing the recorder in my left ear – truth.
We are still in the process of making paper mâché easter eggs. Two days ago we made the board game.
Pause from writing – We “had” to watch an episode of Bo on the Go.
Okay, grand babies are taking a walk with mom and dad so I continue.
Where was I? Board game. So I printed off photos of family members, found large piece of cardboard, glue and a left over piece of laminating paper.
If you landed on a person, you had to imitate their action. Unfortunately, some family members were not with us. If we landed on their picture, we would call out their name and say, “HELLO!”
Other spaces include –
- Dog Farted, go back two
- You Washed Your Hands! Go ahead two
- Amazon Delivery! – go ahead two
Let me know if you make up your own game. I’d love to hear about it and, as always, any other ideas are appreciated!
— Carolyn
Locked Down, Brain open
I’m an avid gym-ster. Most weeks I hit it at least five times a week. Last time I went was March 12th and it seems like months ago.
On lockdown with husband, daughter, her boyfriend and my two grandkids (ages 4 and 2), I have managed to hit pads and leave the compound to play tennis.
Grandkids? Alrighty, then. That’s where the real workout comes in.
This brain is ticking but attention spans are short. Here’s what we’ve done so far:
- painted a wooden crate with glitter paint which turned into body painting
- made printouts on the computer of our favorite things – two copies for matching (two year old is learning about scissors and is cutting them up as I type this)
- created a cozy reading center (not a huge hit)
- washed tricycles and “cars” (weather’s warm in Texas)
- watercolor
- after watching an episode of Daniel Tiger it gave us the idea to bake a bear cake and then we decorated its face and body (didn’t have “real” butter in the house but process not product, right?)
- took a walk in the neighborhood and found spring wildflowers that had not been exposed to the coronavirus
- started paper a mache project with balloons and found it’s hard to wait for the end product, but we can do it!
The next project – I will make a game board with pictures of family members. After we roll the dice or spin the spinner, whoever’s picture we land on, that person must do an action for us to imitate. We’ll see on that one!
More later.
More ideas are always appreciated – especially if they are different from the standard stuff we find on the internet.
This “episode” of life requires thinking outside of the box! But right now? I’m going to curl inside my box for a good nap.
Before Amber Alerts
She was told how fun it would be to watch the parade in small town Fredericksburg, Texas. “Exciting for a four-year-old.”
“Look at that float!” “Carolyn, do you see the clown?”
No. All she saw was the backsides of wiggly people in front of her. The tall, thin man’s suspenders holding up the back of his pants. Arms that pointed to the sky holding miniature American flags.
But she could see behind her – from the grassy field all the way up to the sky.
And there it was. Something she could lay eyes on. Something she found curious and exciting.
She let go of the hem of her grandmother’s, hand-sewn, polka-dot house dress and began to run.
How did he get up there?
Would the man hurt himself when landed?
She continued on, her eyes following the man’s decent from the sky.
The pokey grass would not deter her. Nor the buzzing of summer wasps around her head. The near collisions with jumping grasshoppers were not a distraction.
The man was getting closer.
Panting, yet familiar voices frantically called her name.
When her parents and sister caught up to her, Carolyn pointed to the man.
They were right.
Exciting for a four-year-old.
THIS IS NOT MY BRAIN ON DRUGS
This is Mary Jane.
She is a paper doll created by Milton Bradley Co. in the 1950’s.
This is me, created by Mom and Dad in the 1950’s.
This is Paper Doll Me created by, well, me a few days ago.
Why a paper doll? Why here? Why now?
So, this isn’t my brain on drugs. This is my brain “memory sparking”. I think I’ll call her “Paper Doll Sparky”. Maybe “P.D. Sparky” for short. Or “Sparky” for shorter.
I can tell by looking at her that me, I mean Sparky, and Mary Jane wouldn’t have had a lot in common back then. Not that you should judge someone by appearance but she looks like Miss Goody Two-Shoes. I bet she followed all the rules and never once tried to do something new, challenging or creative.
Too bad, so sad.
I bet she never once hid in a gutter, yelled at her mother, or grew to get caught by the principal for smoking cigarettes in the girls bathroom in middle school (we called it Junior High back then).
In fact, she looks just like Lori, the tattle tale girl who ratted me out for lying to my mother when I was five.
So, I stole, I mean borrowed, some of Mary Jane’s clothes. They are mine now and Sparky can wear them for better purposes than to have mundane tea parties with preppy little girls who never climb trees or scrape their knees.
But don’t let the clothes fool you. Wearing one of Mary Jane’s prim and proper dresses won’t take the girl out of her true skin. (Besides, she’s made out of cardboard).
She’s packing up now, getting ready to see what kind of troubles her memories will stir up. As Dad used to say, “Time to separate the sheep from the goats.”
You comin’?
To be continued …
The Rooster Produces
A little note from this all-over-the-map Rooster writer:
Yes, my blog post themes hip hops from poetry to politics, from novel excerpts to photography.
For this post, my former profession has returned. I have once again dipped my toes into that magical pond of childhood.
The following is one of many finger plays/songs in my repertoire.
When you share this with a young one, don’t forget the gestures and enthusiasm!
Now, the chances are pretty good you might see more future blogs for parents and teachers – or anyone who loves interacting with young children.
Note 2: author of this poem is unknown
via Bubble
Carolyn Dennis-Willingham 