I received the printed children’s book I wrote from Mixbook and I’m so happy with it. Mixbook.com does a great job with the printing and they make it easy to create. And, I have a blast finding the art work. Best thing? My granddaughter loves it! 🙂
Here’s the front cover and the first two pages:
The last page:
On to the next one!
I just finished a children’s book. I haven’t written one in a while but when you watch your 14 month old granddaughter for a weekend, you get inspired (AND TIRED!)
Here are a couple of pages:
Now, to spoil the ending. 🙂
Oh, and I made this using Mixbook. Their tools are easy and fun to use.
Definition:
noun
a journey through a Maze of obstacles; a state of jumping over hurdles to protect one’s child; a wonderful and amazing adventure!
CD-W
While sitting for my 14 month old granddaughter, I thought once again about the lyrics of this creepy song:
Rock a bye baby,
in a treetop,
when the wind blows,
the cradle will rock,
when the bough breaks,
the cradle will fall,
and down will come baby,
baby and all.
What a horrible song to sing to little ones at nighttime!
By the way, I’ve never sang those lyrics to any of my babies!
So, here’s the deal.
The song was first published in 1765 in Mother Goose’s Melody. The only change from today was the first line – Mush-abye-baby. (Still weird) The editors noted, it is “a warning to the proud and ambitious, who climb [too] high that [they] generally fall at last.”
Here’s one theory:
James II had a son by his second wife in 1688, displacing the presumptive heir, his daughter, Mary, married to the Protestant William III of Orange. One speculative theory simply holds that the baby in the song is this little guy, and the lyrics were a “death wish,” that the little Catholic prince would die and a Protestant king would ascend to the throne.
Here’s another: A relative of Davy Crocket made up the song when she was babysitting. (IMDB lists her as the writer of “Rock-a-Bye Baby” when it was used in well-over 100 movies.)
Alrighty then.
Another theory is when the pilgrims encountered the Native Americans, they put their babies in cradles up in trees to protect them. (Stupid because surely, the cradle would fall. Maybe it was really the Native Americans who created the song to make fun of the of the newcomers putting their kids in trees.)
Whatever. It’s still a scary song.
My ending goes like this,
At least the song “Ring around the Rosie,” sad because of its original meaning, didn’t have scary words.
Okay, off my soapbox now. And remember to always hold your children tight.
As I sit here researching human rights, including the treatment of immigrants, the poor, the oppressed, I am reminded of my spirituality and the religions that are based on LOVE. One Christian song goes like this:
Jesus loves the little children
All the children of the world
Red and yellow, black and white
They are precious in his sight
Jesus loves the little children of the world.
If you are a Christian, do you believe the meaning of these words?
If you are not a Christian, what religion of love do you worship and celebrate?
I know there are many and, for that, I am grateful.
With love,
Carolyn
We all have our time. I used to be a one-year-old. Not anymore. Now, it’s my granddaughter’s turn to experience that year.
At her birthday party, I had a wonderful conversation with a friend I rarely get to see. First, we talked about her aging mother. Then we talked about our kids. Her’s are 13 and 11. Mine are 23 and 27.
Kristin’s already missing her aging and ill mother. She talks about what will happen when her growing boys leave the nest. Her eyes puddle with tears.
And then I told her what I tell myself when I feel like so much of my life is formed of memories, of cycles of life that have concluded.
“I have been a one-year-old,” I say. “Now it’s my granddaughter’s turn. I have been a two-year-old. Now it’s my grandson’s turn. I have been a mother of young children, fortunate to have watched them grow and thrive. Now, it is my children’s turn to experience parenthood. But, I have never been sixty before. This, too, is a new cycle. And who knows what will happen.”
We all have our time.
We must count on children to remind us.
my sweet grandson
photo credit
THE ONE HUNDRED LANGUAGES OF CHILDREN
The child is made of one hundred.
The child has a hundred languages a hundred hands a hundred thoughts a hundred ways of thinking of playing, of speaking.
A hundred always a hundred ways of listening of marvelling of loving a hundred joys for singing and understanding a hundred worlds to discover a hundred worlds to invent a hundred worlds to dream.
The child has a hundred languages (and a hundred hundred more) but they steal ninety-nine.
The schools and the culture separate the head from the body.
They tell the child: to think without hands to do without head to listen and not to speak to understand without joy to love and to marvel only at Easter and Christmas.
They tell the child: to discover the world already there and of the hundred they steal ninety-nine.
They tell the child: that work and play reality and fantasy science and imagination sky and earth reason and dream are things that do not belong together.
And thus they tell the child that the hundred is not there.
The child says: No way. The hundred is there.
Loris Malaguzzi
Unfortunately, due to traveling, I was unable to be part of this glory. I am so proud of my city’s turnout, including my daughter and granddaughter. Over 50,000 showed up and made their voices heard.It makes my heart swell! A Successful march, indeed!
I am also proud of the one million-plus who showed their support from around the world. Thank you!
all the above photos are from Mike Holp http://holpphotograhpy.com
And, no, Mr. Trump, I have no need, nor a desire to purchase your coin. Please stop sending me your emails. I’d rather have LOVE instead.
.
Carolyn Dennis-Willingham 