Saturday, April 12, 2014

Classic Spring

Forsythia, tulips, and daffodils!

Friday, April 11, 2014


 This has been a fun miracle to watch. Food storage beans to plants! I loved hearing the children's exclamations when it changed.  

Thursday, April 10, 2014

Every Time I Climb a Tree

It is fun for me to see the same activity, same place, same people but how it can be so different. Different season, different lighting and in a way different children. I know it is fun for them too!
Here and here are two links to different times. And here is a poem to go with it!

Every Time I Climb a Tree

Every time I climb a tree
Every time I climb a tree
Every time I climb a tree
I scrape a leg
Or skin a knee
And every time I climb a tree
I find some ants
Or dodge a bee
And get the ants
All over me.

And every time I climb a tree
Where have you been?
They say to me
But don't they know that I am free
Every time I climb a tree?

I like it best
To spot a nest
That has an egg
Or maybe three.

And then I skin
The other leg
But every time I climb a tree
I see a lot of things to see
Swallows rooftops and TV
And all the fields and farms there be
Every time I climb a tree
Though climbing may be good for ants
It isn't awfully good for pants
But still it's pretty good for me
Every time I climb a tree

by David McCord

J for John

John watching Signing Time and signing a J.

Wednesday, April 09, 2014

Tuesday, April 08, 2014

Monday, April 07, 2014

Sunday, April 06, 2014

Food Prep

Margaret and John have been having a great time with the crinkle cutters. When lunch time comes around it think of anything they could possibly cut with them. I like these cutters because one uses two hands so the risk of injury goes way down. John even unexpectedly worked on fractions!
I also taught Margaret how to peal an egg. When she did it for the first time she squealed "This Fun!" She then pealed three, and asked for more. It was to bad we ran out! I will boil some more soon. In the mean time, here is a poem about eggs.

I do not like the way you slide,
I do not like your soft inside,
I do not like you many ways,
And I could do for many days
Without a soft-boiled egg.
With their yolks and whites all runny
They are looking at me funny.
Lying face-down on the plate
On their stomachs there they wait.
Poached eggs on toast, why do you shiver
With such a funny little quiver?
I eat as well as I am able,
But some falls underneath the table.
With so much suffering today
Why do them any other way?

By Russell Hoban