Wednesday, October 13, 2010

their favorites

The children's ride to AWANA--our children's director--was on vacation this week, so they had to miss tonight's class.  Anticipating deep disappointment, I planned an upbeat day--dancing, painting, lots of stories, and their all-time favorite activity.

What, pray tell, is their favorite activity?

Mixing up a batch of sugar cookie dough, rolling it out, using cookie cutters, baking it, and finally, the decorating.  Just the thought, or mention, of this activity gives them jolly ants in their pants.  They run around like wild hooligans, cheering.

The mess, ladies.  The mess!  We do it about four times a year, which I know is shameful, considering all the other batches of cookies we manage to whip out no problem.  I. just. can't. stand. the. mess.  It entails wiping up everything and sweeping after the dough part, followed by wiping up everything and sweeping after the decorating part.  Followed by managing the entire load of dirty dishes generated.  There is usually a meal in between, so two clean ups it is.

Drop cookies are my friend.

Is four times a year enough?  I tell myself they wouldn't enjoy it nearly so much if it occurred more often.

 Mary had us reading The Gingerbread Man several times this week, so we decided to use the gingerbread man cookie cutter.  Here we have some colored frosting, to give him a "fancy suit of clothes".  The boys, at 6 and 8, can manage this whole operation themselves, except for creaming the butter and sugar, which Momma still does--at least until we get an electric mixer

 Paul is proud of his painting.  He mostly experimented with color mixing.

 Swing dance party.
 Every child instinctively knows how to boogie--and loves it.  Ever notice that?  By the way, this Momma can still boogie with the best of 'em!  

 Here is my sweet Mary, showing off her favorite fall book--Too Many Pumpkins, by Linda White.  I love, love, love this story!  Rebecca Estelle, the main character, just hates pumpkins, because as a child money was scarce and her family once went a month with only pumpkins to eat.  After that month, things improved, and she vowed never to eat, or think of, pumpkins again.  But one fall day, many decades later, the pumpkin truck dropped one in her yard, and it smashed into smithereens.  I won't tell the rest of the story, so as not to spoil it.  But oh, it is wonderful.  If you haven't read it, get it on your next library visit.
 A few weeks ago we went to an apple farm, during their apple harvest festival.  We enjoyed a nice hayride and picked out a couple pumpkins.  Not this large, however.  :)

I leave you with a funny literary passage.  Who can guess the name of the book?

"I just don't get it." she grouched.  "How could anyone forget the Easter Bunny? The Easter Bunny brings candy right to your door."

Lennie did a frown at her.  "He doesn't bring candy to my door, Lucille." he said.  "The Easter Bunny is a different religion than me.  I'm Jewish."

Shirley nodded.  "I'm Jewish, too, Lucille," she said.  "I've never even been to an Easter-egg hunt before.  What do you wear to something like that, anyway?"

Lucille stood up and fluffed herself.  "Well--since the Easter Bunny and I are the same religion--I'm going to wear a fancy Easter dress, Shirley," she said.

Shirley thought for a minute.  Then she nodded.  "Hmm.  Then I guess I will wear a fancy Jewish dress," she said.

Lennie's eyes lighted up.  "Really, Shirley?  You mean we have our own clothing line?" he asked.  He smiled.  "Then I think I will wear some fancy Jewish pants," he said.

My friend named Herbert tapped on his chin.  "Let's see.  Since I'm Pressed-byterian, I guess I should wear Pressed-byterian pants," he said.  

He turned and looked at me.  "Pressed-byterian means we iron out our wrinkles, I think," he said.

Just then, Sheldon slapped the table with his hand.  "Hey, I know!  I will wear a fancy turban!  A fancy turban is religious clothes, right?"  He asked.  "I love fancy turbans!"

So, did you guess the book?  Or the book series?

Answer:  Junie B., First Grader,  Dumb Bunny, by Barbara Park

Barbara Park could write stand up in her next career, no?

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