Growing up, we made popsicles by pouring orange juice into these molds, letting them freeze and eating them outside so we didn’t sticky up the kitchen floor. But when I first bought these popsicles molds a year ago, did I put juice in them? No. I started dreaming about frozen cherry cheesecake popsicles and key lime pie paletas. I became obsessed with recreating the creamsicles of my youth, but only if the outside layer was orange and the middle was white. I began scratching out recipes for rum-mango-coconut popsicles, roasted peach and frozen yogurt on a stick and strawberry black pepper frozen ices that might taste like one of my favorite summer cocktails.

I first read about magical one-ingredient banana ice cream around the same time. If you haven’t, well, go buy some bananas. Freeze them until they’re almost quite but not completely frozen, then cut them into chunks and blend them in a food processor and you’ll have the most amazing soft serve banana gelato ever.

... Read the rest of banana, nutella and salted pistachio popsicles on smittenkitchen.com

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Do not be ashamed of your limitations.
Don’t be grieved because you have weaknesses and gaps.
Do not worry that you are very, very bad at some very good things.

Here is why. Color theory.

Let us take yellow, for instance.

Yellow functions best in a piece of artwork when yellow is yellow with all of her heart. Yellow is warm. Lively. Penetrating. She is the color of the morning sun and wild honey. VanGogh chose her alone to represent Divine Love.

Yet, what if yellow envies the purple? What if she watches some program on the BBC and begins to yearn for a poetic tranquility like that character named Emmaline or August Rose who wears empire-waist dresses and wanders dreamily through the moors?

What if yellow begins to wonder if not being purple is why she has been so lost and so lonely after all? And what if yellow, in her despair, attempts to soak up a little violet into her blood? What if broodiness is in fashion this year, and yellow feels grossly out-of-date, and so she washes herself over in heliotrope?

She will turn a muddy brown, that’s what. She will lose herself, and improve herself nothing whatsoever in the process.

If yellow despises the way she was made, if she feels she is too bright, too loud, too vibrant, if she attempts to become her own opposite, she will lessen her value, not increase it.

Should yellow grow enamored with thistle, or orchid, or mulberry, let her. For she was made to love them. She was made to stand near them, to look over into them and revel in their beauty. She was made to shine in her golden glory and press it up against the lavenders and the indigos. She was made to contrast with them, and to enhance them.

But she was not made to be them. She was made to thrive in the thin and mighty range of strengths given to her alone.

Yellow, if she knew herself as we know her, would simply throw her arms wide like a child running, trusting that her greatest limitations were also the underpinnings of her greatest loveliness.
—–   —–   —–

“I would rather be what God chose to make me than the most glorious creature that I could think of; for to have been thought about, born in God’s thought, and then made by God, is the dearest, grandest and most precious thing in all thinking.”

George MacDonald

I knew the story of P. L. Travers’ unhappy experience in L.A. during the making of the Mary Poppins movie, but hadn’t heard until now that Disney has turned that story into a movie as well, “Saving Mr. Banks,” out this December. With Emma Thompson as Travers and Tom Hanks as Disney, this post about the new movie’s script and the following trailer has me hopeful.

The latest from “Convos with My 2-year-old,” in which a dad re-enacts real-life discussions he’s had with his toddler daughter, except the baby girl is played by an adult man…

Previous episodes…

• Discussing a lack of cookies
• Discussing who’s boss
• Original episode — What if your 2-year-old daughter were replaced by a grown man

By Heather Sanders

I turned 41 on Sunday. One of my birthday gifts was a song written, sung, and strummed by my middle child and younger daughter, Meredith.  It was a precious moment for both of us, but the truth is, there is a bit of a story behind it.

Though Jeff and I dislike the sense of entitlement kids and even young adults seem to have these days – something we feel was the result of the self-esteem movement of the early 80′s, we do strongly believe in the power and importance of daily vocalizing our heartfelt love and praise to the kids.

As with many parents, we want to do right by the children we have been gifted, so through the years we chose to attend multiple parenting conferences, and read countless parenting books.  In the process, we trained our ears to listen to what the kids were saying as opposed to the words that actually spilled forth from their mouths.  Then, after learning about the differences in how individuals recognize, receive, and give love, we made it a point to understand and speak each of the kids’ love languages.

And most recently, reading about how personality type affects homeschooling approaches served as a catalyst for an enlightening correspondence with Rob Toomey of Type-Coach.com who, after agreeing to speak with me more about this topic for a future post, briefly detailed how personality awareness allows parents to “recognize differences in their kids and then create the right space for them to develop fully.”

Still, it was not until I read the chapter “The Inverse Power of Praise” in the book, Nurture Shock: New Thinking About Children, by PO Bronson and Ashley Merryman that I considered that some aspects of Jeff and my verbal praise may actually have a negative impact on our kids’ future confidence, growth and development.

Not All Praise is Equal

According to authors Bronson and Merryman there is a growing body of research suggesting that not all praise is equal; that in order to be effective, praise needs to be sincere and specific.  

While sincerity is a requirement most parents grasp, we tend to generalize our praise and overlook the importance of specificity.

Case in point: Meredith has been writing, singing and playing music for the past few years. Her Daddy and I are thrilled and frequently praise her privately and publicly, often using phrases like, “That was perfect! You are such a talented musician!”

However, we began to notice a pattern of Meredith becoming inconsolably angry when she makes multiple errors on a piece. When playing the piano, she may slam the lid down, stomping off to hide out in her room, all while verbally berating herself about the inability to perform the piece perfectly. When playing her guitar, she may choose to refuse to play “live” for us, preferring to play us recordings instead.

Trying to soothe her I did not recognize the role we played in her behavior.  I did know that nothing we said made her believe we enjoyed the music when it wasn’t perfect, and did not see how it robbed her of the desire to continue striving to produce music.

With the book’s research tucked into my thoughts, in the past few weeks I have mindfully attempted a different level of response when it comes to Meredith and music.

This weekend while Meredith played the birthday song she wrote for me, I listened intently throughout the entire song, mentally decided what I loved most about it, and when she finished, I asked her a few clarifying questions about the lyrics, followed by a completely sincere, highly focused nugget of praise.

I told her that I appreciated the time she committed to writing such personal, heartfelt lyrics, and I told her I enjoyed that the song had its own unique sound. Then, because it was different from what she had written previously, I asked if she drew inspiration from any of her recent favorite artists.

My response opened the door to a very interesting conversation, and later, Meredith recorded the song for me, allowed me to take and use the photo above as an “album cover” in my iTunes playlist, and sent me the lyrics to put in my journal.  That is a far different outcome than what her Daddy and I have experienced with her in the past few months.

The surprising fact is that she did make a couple of minor errors in the execution, as well as in the recording she sent me later, but it didn’t matter as much to her because she realized I was not grading her for perfection.  Instead, I was happy to receive a personal piece of music written just for me, and she was happy to write it, and felt confident enough to share it later with other family members.

Excessive Praise Can Distort Motivation

The book drew out another related point that interested me as well; that parents who praise excessively can actually distort their child’s motivation. The kids then begin doing things solely to receive praise, and not for any type of intrinsic enjoyment.

Students who are liberally praised often become “risk-averse” and then, “when they get to college, heavily-praised students commonly drop out of classes rather than suffer a mediocre grade, and they have a hard time picking a major – they’re afraid to commit to something because they’re afraid of not succeeding.”  

Instead of too little self-esteem, now it seems students are at risk of loving themselves too much, and it has potential to stunt their personal growth and rob them of their potential.

The book’s chapters tackle several other topics, and is definitely one I will keep reviewing from time to time.

My primary takeaway at this time is to focus on what words I  use, so I do not place labels on the kids (“You are great!”), but instead to encourage the process (“I am impressed that you were willing to try such a challenging piece of music!”).

I have a bit of work to do.

What methods do you use to encourage and motivate?  Have you read anything that impacted the way you relate to your children?

Heather Sanders is a leading homeschooling journalist who inspires homeschooling families across the nation. Married to Jeff, Heather lives in the East Texas Piney Woods and homeschools her three children, Emelie, Meredith and Kenny.

These tips and tricks will guarantee you’ll be a totally happy camper this summer.

Use foam floor tiles for a softer, more comfortable tent floor.

alittlecampy.com

Point a head lamp into a jug of water for an instant lantern.

Flickr: listorama

Paint the inside of a jar with non-toxic glow-in-the-dark paint for an easy DIY lantern.

See how she did this here.

lindsayandandrew.blogspot.com

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The springbok is a species of antelope native to Africa’s southwest. Known for their extraordinary running and leaping, they can reach speeds over 60 mph and jump 13 feet in the air and 50 feet horizontally.

When the rain comes, bringing fresh grass growth, they begin using this agility to “pronk” — a fun term for the practice of jumping straight up in the air. Check it out…

(via b3ta)

“Parenting is a war between you and your kids. The hard thing is the parents have this impossible mission of making sure both sides win.” –Sum Guye the Wise

My wife and I have some sort of slapdash plan of attack when it comes to setting behavioral expectations for our kids in different situations. Behavior in church is one they get to regularly practice, so it’s probably a little more clear. It goes in something like these stages.

Stage 1: Be a baby and, you know, poop and pass gas and nurse and scream and cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war (forcing parental evacuation) and sleep and look incredibly adorable. Get held by nice people. Distract people with your cuteness and antics as often as possible.

Stage 2: Play quietly on the floor with toys. Get reminded to play quietly twenty times. Learn to interpret insistent hand gestures that mean play quietly.

Stage 3: Sit in a chair and draw whatever you want including ENDLESS Tolkien/Narnia/Wingfeather maps, men, weaponry, Lego versions, Angry Bird versions, etc., to the edge of doom. Look at books, sleep.

Stage 4: Sit and listen, but you can draw things related to what is happening, or being said. Mostly engaged, but not totally attentive.

Stage 5: Take notes of repeated phrases, things that stand out. Draw related pictures, basically follow in text, listen well. Resist the temptation to draw unrelated material. Stay engaged.

That’s as far as we’ve gotten so far.

OK, so our oldest son was six and probably at stage 4.5 at the time of this event. He was listening pretty closely as one of our pastors talked about how we all screw up –in parenting, in life. Then he passed this note to me.

I guess one thing I’ve drilled into his head is a high regard for silliness.

Obviously, I’m ignoring this advice…

I keep my kids’ artwork in a special place. It’s called the trash can. Just kidding. But seriously.

— sammy rhodes (@prodigalsam) May 26, 2013

Another of his notes from past Bible studies (at home this time) was this gem produced after we explored Elijah on Mt. Carmel, taunting the prophets of Baal.

And at noon Elijah mocked them, saying, “Cry aloud, for he is a god. Either he is musing, or he is relieving himself, or he is on a journey, or perhaps he is asleep and must be awakened.” ( from 1 Kings 18)

His drawing has improved. His spelling, well, we’ve got time to work on that. I like to think of his approach as Classical, predating sight-spelling.

He is old skool, like his dad. Scrood up.

But I have some consolation. This is another picture he drew of the two of us.

No laughter when he handed this one to me.

Love. Joy. Unuty!

That’s the aim. And I’m happy to see it in his own hand. Of course, there’s lots of “scrooing” up along the way.

I resist turning this funny post all “lessony,” but hey, God is great.

And he really is on the scene. The God we call out to in our (very real) parenting inadequacy is the God of Elijah. The Lord, he is God. He aims to build into our lives the same unity he has always experienced in the Trinity. We are invited into that same happy, unifying love and asked to be like that in the world. (Not act like that. Be like that. Be who we are –who we are becoming.) Our Triune God is great. He is active in our families.

And he does not take bathroom breaks.

A man and his wife reenact a conversation they had with their little girl…who is played by a grown man…

(via Reddit)

(via Reddit)

NOTE: Today seems like a good day to re-visit this excellent essay Julie shared several years ago. Enjoy!

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I hadn’t talked with our eldest daughter for several days when she called and asked what we’d been doing. I paused, trying to muster up an answer of substance. Coming up empty-handed, I winced and responded, “The same thing I was doing last time we talked. Trying to gain some semblance of order around the house.” Again. And chances are good that the next time we speak, the answer will be the same.

I’m not a perfectionist. I do prefer order and cleanliness in my home, but I can rarely crawl out of the hole of “endless piles and to-do lists” long enough to achieve rest on the level ground of “routine maintenance needed.” I have friends who seem to have it all together.  Their homes are comfortable, but orderly. The countertops remain clutter-free. Their children’s coats and shoes rarely stray from their designated hooks and baskets.  The floors rarely show evidence of traffic. I choose to like them anyway.

Generally, I’m able to live fully in my life without comparison to the snapshot I have of another’s. Yet there are days when the freshly emptied laundry basket magically refills in minutes. The errands to be run are greater than the energy required to execute. The thought of planning dinner feels overwhelming. I feel defeated. And in the darkest moments, shame.

This morning, as I was mapping out my plan for the day, I felt a subtle yet significant shift of perspective occur. It dawned on me that I actually have a choice to make. I can wallow in the frustration of living in “clutter purgatory”, or I can choose to look beyond the stuff for something greater. I choose the latter.

I am deeply grateful for…

~ Bits of scotch tape adhered tightly to my wooden floors, capless markers banished hopelessly under my couch, scraps of yarn and paper dripping throughout my house and small hand print smudges made from pastel–chalk hands accidentally decorating the wall. There is creativity abounding in my home.

~ Scattered weapons.  Light sabers, daggers, broken cap guns and wooden swords that have been worn down to only traces of the original paint as a result of many battles. I have little boys in whose very souls the Creator planted seeds of justice, goodness, and the drive to fight for all that is good and right. I have fine young men who will one day fight for all that is important, and they are in training… in my home.

~ A clumsy pile of muddy, worn, and sometimes companionless shoes that were deposited right beside the shoe basket. Their owners have quickly shifted from the adventures of exploring the creek, jumping on the trampoline, and straining to see their favorite fish in the pond toward the next exciting venture inside. There is anticipation in my home.

~ An unfinished Star Wars Monopoly game that has taken up permanent residence in the center of our family room on the coffee table (and the surrounding floor)… Because the big brother came home from college and took time to play.  I have children who love and enjoy each other in my home.

~ Tellingly height-specific rows of smudges across the windows in our sunroom, made by fingers and noses pressed hard as wonder-filled eyes welcome the chickadees, house wrens, gold finches and occasional downy woodpecker who have come to feast at the bird feeder. There is love of God’s creation in my home.

~ An un-manicured backyard in need of tree-removal, weeding, pruning, and an occasional mow.  There is a daddy who chooses to play with his children in my home.

~ A little voice that intrudes upon my coveted quiet time of the day – my bit of heaven in the form of a cup of coffee, a quite moment, book in lap and pen in hand… Because I have a little boy who could have chosen a sibling, but who chooses me to play a game with him.  I have simple pleasures in my home.

~ Traces of the frayed ends from sheer coral ribbon… From tying what felt like thousands of bows on our daughter’s wedding invitations preceding one of the most joyful weekends in our family history.  I have thriving young adults who have emerged from my home.

~ Towering stacks of beautiful old yellowing books waiting to be re-shelved in our home library… Because my children have befriended hundreds of perilous adventures, brave heroes, quirky characters, and faraway places as their very own.  I have a love of story in my home.

 ~ Empty boxes of cereal left in the pantry, depleted boxes of popsicles abandoned in the freezer, and granola bar wrappers sprinkled throughout the van… Because my children are growing like weeds and they are consuming food proportionately. I have strong, healthy bodies in my home.

~ Guitar picks that pop up unexpectedly like long-lost Easter eggs from last year’s hunt – in the dusty corner of the bathroom, under the box of crackers, wedged in the floor vent. I have music filling my home

When our daughter calls to check in next, chances are good that I’ll be “doing the same thing I was last time we talked. Trying to gain some semblance of order around the house.”  Only then, rather than a wince, I hope to produce a grateful, knowing smile.

My house isn’t spotless, perfectly organized or immaculately decorated. But within it’s walls, I can make the choice to bask in the energy, joy, and beauty that is present  –  to allow the temporal to point me toward the eternal. And as a result, I taste the richness of life. I respond with gratitude. I find rest.

 “People throw away what they could have by insisting on perfection, which they cannot have, and looking for it where they could never find it.”  Edith Schaeffer

I went to the doctor yesterday for the first time in years. That doesn’t mean I haven’t been sick; it means I’m the kind of stubborn fool who doesn’t like to take an ibuprofen for a headache, the kind of crank who would rather walk around squinting and snappy than to take the blasted aspirin. I just don’t like medicine. I prefer sweating it out, however inconvenient that is for the people around me. So after ten days of coughing and sniffling and whining I finally decided it must be a sinus infection. I have a show in a few days, and I can’t afford to be sick. So I bravely did what any man in my shoes would do: I asked my wife what to do. She told me which doctor to visit and I drove to the offices with a steely resolve. The nurse behind the sliding glass window handed me the clipboard with the dreaded New Patient Paperwork, and then the thing happened that made me want to write this.

The questions began. “Do you have any allergies?” “Do you drink caffeine?” “Do you use tobacco?” “If so, how often?” “Do you exercise regularly?” “Is there a history of heart disease in your family?” “Have you had any surgeries?

I realized as I answered each question that my impulse was to pad the answers. I had to force myself to be completely honest. For some reason I didn’t want to write down that my dad has type two diabetes or that my grandfather had three heart attacks before he died. No, ma’am, I come from tough stock. No problems at all in the Peterson tree. In the end, I told the truth. I answered “yes” to the exercise question, because it’s true. I do exercise. But then it asked “How often?” Well, that depends. I jog three or four times a week—if I’m home and the weather is nice and I’m not too busy and I’m in the mood. So, sort of often. But I rode my mountain bike twice last year, does that count? “Do you use tobacco?” No. Never. That stuff is gross. But every now and then I like to puff on a pipe, Bilbo Baggins-style, when I’m visiting my dad in the country. And I guess I smoke it when the weather is nice in the spring and my dude friends come over. And on Wednesdays. And Thursdays.

Then came the one that really bugged me. For some reason the questionnaire asked, “Have you ever been to counseling?” My pen hovered over the paper. Why is that any of their business? It would have been easy to skip the question, or to lie. But I could see how that answer could give them some insight into high blood pressure or anxiety-related problems. I still think it’s weird that they wanted to know (maybe some doctors out there will shed some light on it), but what was even weirder was how reluctant I was to answer. And even when I answered I wished for space to make disclaimers and justifications. I’ve only been a few times. I’m not like a regular or anything. Why was I trying to distance myself from people with Real Problems, as if I didn’t qualify?

By the time I saw the doctor and she prescribed my antibiotics, I was laughing to myself about the disparity between who I imagine myself to be and the person I actually am. I imagine that I’m a person who’s never sick, never needs medicine, has no vices, comes from a healthy family, and is so spiritually and emotionally balanced that he never needs help. The person I actually am is more than a little out of shape, is probably a candidate for heart trouble, enjoys a scholarly pipe smoke a little too much, and has several times been so beset with spiritual and emotional trouble that he needed serious help from a counselor. It’s official. Hello, Doc. My name is Andrew, and I’m a person with Real Problems. I sat on the papery hospital bed thinking about how uncomfortable I was that the doctor knew more about the “real” me than most people.

I have always been a private person. The irony is that my whole career is about sharing some of the darkest (and brightest) moments of my life with perfect strangers. That’s what all my records are about, more or less. When I run up against some old sin or doubt or habit in a way that derails my train, and my wife and friends act surprised, I want to hold up a CD and say, “Why are you so shocked? It’s all in there. It’s in almost every song I write. When a lyric says, ‘I’ve got voices that scream in my head like a siren,’ it’s not just poetry or exaggeration. That’s me. That’s what’s really going on.” I don’t have a hard time sharing that stuff from the stage. Then why was I so tempted to pad my answers in the medical questionnaire?

There are a lot of possibilities, but one that comes to mind is this: I have control over what I put in a song. When I’m on the stage I can manage what I reveal about myself, I can put a funny spin on it or sugarcoat the real depth of the sin. But when I’m anonymous, answering questions in a different context, I’m confronted with an awful truth: I am not who I think I am. Nor am I who you think I am. I’m much, much worse. I’m much more lost, much less disciplined, much more screwed up than I allow myself to admit.

Years ago I read a great op-ed piece in Entertainment Weekly about Netflix. The author talked about how seldom he feels like watching the DVDs that come in the mail, prompting him to wonder what he was thinking when he added them to his queue weeks ago. His conclusion was that he’s two people: the movie watcher he wishes he was, someone who enjoys sophisticated, artful fare like A Trip to Bountiful and Tree of Life—and then there’s the movie watcher he is, who, let’s face it, would rather turn off his brain and watch Die Hard and Terminator 2. It’s true of all of us, isn’t it? I love good books, and count Frederick Buechner, Wendell Berry, C. S. Lewis and the like as my favorite authors—but I read those as a discipline, because I know they’ll be good for me. Yet there’s this other part of me that would rather just burn through sci-fi/fantasy novels that have no more literary value than an episode of CSI. I want to be a healthy eater and I truly love sushi; but man, I can down a deep dish Jet’s Pizza in a way that would shock Marlon Brando.

So who am I? That’s the question. Am I the sophisticated art consumer or the brain-dead entertainment glutton? Am I a singer/songwriter with self-control, insight, and integrity or am I a broken man with bad knees and worse habits? The answer is probably more complicated than space allows. In some mysterious way, the answer is both. Maybe the person I wish I were is a projection of the Holy Spirit, calling me upward. Discipline is good. But it’s dangerous to forget how much I need Jesus. It’s like budgeting. Whenever Jamie and I run out of money before the end of the month we always throw our hands in the air and say, “Where did it all GO?” Then we look over the bank statement and remember that we ate out several times, had a few doctor bills, fixed the transmission, bought that one thing that we needed for that other thing, and suddenly it’s clear that we were living beyond our means. It’s easy at the beginning of the month to ignore the awful truth that we are not zillionaires. But at the end of the month, there’s a reckoning. (Of course, in this analogy God’s mercy settles the account. Every time.)

But you see, the story we tell ourselves is skewed. There comes a time when we need to sit and take account of how we’re spending our lives, like at the doctor’s office or with the budget, and be reminded that we are not who we think we are. We need Jesus more than we allow ourselves to admit. We are not really so much better than the people around us whose lives are so obviously messy. In fact, we’re not better at all. They may in fact be closer to the heart of Jesus because they are humble enough to admit to themselves that they need help, humble enough to answer the hard questions about their weakness boldly. And humility is a way of dying; it is the crucifixion of our false selves. Humility and death go hand in hand. It is exemplified in Christ, who humbled himself even unto death on a cross.

I saw the great Garrison Keillor at the Ryman Auditorium a few years ago when A Prairie Home Companion came through town, and was struck by how comfortable he was in his own skin. He has one of the most recognizable voices in radio history and has been entertaining us for decades—but he has, as they say, a face for radio. He’s not an attractive man. His eyes are bulgy, his nose is a little too small, he’s gangly, he hunches, and though his speaking voice is magical his singing voice is about as plain as you could imagine. But when he steps out onto the stage in his suit and bright red sneakers, he shines. He dances around as awkward as a goose on stilts, singing badly and looking odd—but he’s so joyful, so clearly doing what he loves to do, that he doesn’t care how weird he looks. He doesn’t care about his shortcomings. He’s delighted to be alive and doing something he was made to do. I looked around at the audience and saw that his joy was contagious. Every face was smiling, enjoying the beauty of someone who had made peace with who he was. At some point he may have cursed the way he was made, but now he celebrated it and we celebrated with him.

Jesus is making us into something. C. S. Lewis wrote that God is making us into “little Christs.” We all ache for the day when we’ll be free of our sins, our bad habits, our bitterness, the things about us that we think ugly or undesirable. But perhaps the road of sanctification will be an easier one when we recognize in ourselves the sin of self-consciousness, the sin of reputation management, the sin of lying to ourselves. To live our lives with a pretense of self-sufficiency, strength, and have-it-togetherness is to diminish the visible work of God’s grace. One of your greatest blessings to the community around you may be your utter brokenness, it may be something about yourself that you loathe, but which Christ will use for his glory. When Jesus is Lord of our brokenness we are free to rejoice in the mighty work he has yet to do in us. We are free to enter the stage in the face of the devil’s accusation, “You’re not good enough.”

The Christian’s answer: “Exactly!”

And we dance.

(This was first published on NRT.com’s website a few months back.)

Disco the Parakeet has a lot to say and he’s just going to keep on saying it…with an occasional break to beatbox…

(via Reddit)

The Sleepy Man Banjo Boys are 11-year-old banjo player Jonny Mizzone and his 14- and 15-year-old brothers. Here they’re practicing a song by Jonny from their latest album…

Previously: 9-year-old banjo player and his brothers absolutely nail “Dueling Banjos”

(via Hypervocal)

You can freeze sandwiches. Why didn’t I realize this about 3 years ago?

I have a school-age daughter, and naturally I want her to have nutritious, healthy lunches. My attempts to send my daughter in with various kinds of frugal, left-over based meals have met with mixed success, and all too often my kid would come home with a barely eaten lunch.

I hit my limit when, early one Monday, I retrieved from my daughter’s backpack a forgotten lunch from the previous Friday. The containers were full of untouched (and now disgustingly moldy) wild salmon and sesame-edamame salad.

Have I mentioned I really hate food waste? I really, really do. Particularly expensive, wild-salmon food waste.

Then and there I decided I was being ridiculous. Clearly, my daughter needed more kid-friendly food and I needed to stop pretending she had the same tastes and lunch food preferences as the adults of the family.

I have friends who make it easy to throw school lunch together with pre-packaged food. They go for the Sandwich-Plus route. Lunch is a sandwich, homemade – or maybe not (Uncrustables? WTF?) – plus some combination of commercially made snacks: granola bars (candy), fruit snacks (candy), pudding cups (candy), various flavored crispy (starch) things like potato chips and cheesy crackers, etc.

I am of the belief that almost all moms are just basically trying to do their best, but I can tell you that, for me personally in my rather more sugar-sensitive family, a lunch like that would make my job as mom way harder. My kids tend to become totally energy-less human slugs (daughter) and totally fucking crazy whirlwinds of hyperness (son) when they have too much sugar or simple starch.

So a more DIY approach to the kid-friendly lunch would be necessary for my household, I knew that. But the goal was not just to provide my kids with a decent lunch, it was also to make my life a bit easier. Basically I wanted a more whole foods Sandwich-Plus plan.

I started with a sandwich. I went to Costco and loaded up on the least processed looking ham and turkey I could find, sliced cheddar and provolone cheese and four loaves of organic 100% whole grain bread.

And then I assembly-lined basic sandwiches. Mayo went on both slices of the bread, meat and cheese in the middle. No veggies, nothing fancy. Each sandwich got wrapped in plastic wrap and put in the freezer. I ended up with 30 of them.

Then I got busy on the “Plus” portion of the Sandwich-Plus plan. I spent half of a Sunday turning the random bits of things hanging out in my fridge and freezer into kid-friendly foods I knew my children would eat and that I could feel moderately okay about.

• Sun-nut butter and chocolate chip granola bars (based off this recipe.)
• Low sugar pumpkin-chocolate chip-cranberry bread (based loosely off a combination of this recipe and this recipe.)
• Cranberry orange mini muffins
• Cornbread buttermilk muffins

These items were all cooked, cooled, appropriately portioned and then wrapped in plastic wrap. They got stacked in metal baskets and popped in the freezer with the sandwiches.

Now we have our own, homemade version of the Sandwich-Plus plan and I have to say, it’s simplified things mightily.

Often, my daughter makes her own lunch. This is as simple as grabbing one sandwich and one treat from the freezer, and adding in whatever veg or fruit we have in the fridge or on the counter.

Is this all ideal? No, not really. In an ideal scenario all the meat and cheese would be from a local artisan. The bread would be homemade, long-soaked sourdough. There wouldn’t be so much dammed plastic wrap. There wouldn’t be a trace of sugar anywhere and my kid would thrive on being the weirdo with the hippie lunch.

But for now, for where we are now, I’ll take this solution gratefully. Lunches are being eaten. My irritation over the food waste is gone. The pre-made sandwiches and treats have saved a ton of time and frustration, and have made it easy for my daughter to take ownership of her own lunches. I think she is at that age where she prefers not to be quite so “unique” at the lunch room table, too.

It is what it is, and for now it’s far better. No more rotten food. No more resentful mom. Simplified mornings. Empowered, lunch-making kid.

PS: The sandwiches thaw fine in a few hours at refrigerator or room temp. Once thawed, they taste totally normal. There’ve been no complaints. However, if you try to quick-thaw them in a microwave, the bread gets a bit soggy.

Do you batch-make food for work or school lunches? What has worked best for you?

There is a certain little word that can make parents crazy.

It is worse than ‘Oww!’, more frustrating than ‘No!’, and more challenging than ‘Mine!’

That word is: ‘Why?’

At a far-too-young age most children discover the word ‘why’ and its mystical powers for simultaneously getting parents to talk and flustering them.  My wife and I noticed that in each of our three children, this dangerous word was discovered successively earlier.  By the time our lastborn was talking, she had stolen this word from her big sisters and was using it without really knowing what it meant.

While the word ‘why’ has the power to drive us mad, it is admittedly still a good word.  And one that, deep inside, parents know they should encourage in children.  We want them to be curious about the world.  We want them to be explorers, plumbing the depths of what fascinates them in a quest to find the root causes.  We want them to go beyond accepting things at face value.  So, while it seems counter-intuitive (and maybe a little masochistic!), we know that we should encourage the ‘why.’

If only there was a way to make the ‘why’ more fun.

A few months ago we were at the beach.  My wife and our older daughters were playing in the water; the three year old and I were playing in the sand.  Suddenly, the dreaded word materialized between us: “Why is the beach full of sand?”

Now, I am no scientist and am not much of a naturalist. So, I was left with a few memories from an 8th grade class that would likely end with me giving an unsatisfying and oft repeated answer: “I don’t know Katie, but good question!”  So, I tried a new track.  I started with “Once upon a time…” and came up with a pretty decent story about some little girls and the way that a bunch of sugar was turned into a beach full of sand.

We had fun over the next few weeks inventing other tales from the ‘whys’ in our life:  Why does the ocean have waves?  Why does the ocean taste salty? Why are there clouds in the sky? Why are sunsets colorful? And more…  Now they have become part of our family’s little story archive.

One day we were sitting outside with one of my daughter’s teachers as I was telling these ‘Why’ stories once again.  At one point she looked at her student and asked, “Ellie, do you remember what these kinds of stories are called?”  The answer: Pourquoi stories.

‘Pourquoi’ means ‘why’ in French.  Pourquoi stories are origin tales or myths that usually start with a question.   This term describes a large portion of the stories in the folk tale and legend genre.

So, by turning my little girl’s ‘why’ into a story, I like to think that I was joining the long line of grandparents throughout human history who desired responses more enjoyable than “I don’t know.”  I see myself joining the ranks of parents who want their children to see the world through the lens of curiosity and wonder.

Pourquoi stories can help cultivate that kind of inquisitive spirit.  They can encourage us to engage the world using one of our most powerful tools – our imagination. Besides, they can be a healthy and constructive response to one of a parenthood’s more intimidating opponents: a tall stack of ‘whys.’

At some point in the very near future, my little girl will be ready to hear the real ‘why’ behind the origin of sand.  She will be ready to marvel at the way the Maker’s rocks, minerals and shells erode away to create something so beautiful.  And she will be able to see that the real story is no less magical than our invented ones.

In the past year, I’ve had the great privilege of getting to know Randall Goodgame as we’ve dreamed, schemed, and planned for the future of Slugs & Bugs. Prior to working with Randy, I had been a big fan of his music. Yet after hours of conversations in which I asked a million questions about business practices, goals, and mission, I’m even more passionate about supporting his endeavors. The Slugs & Bugs team is a rare and beautiful phenomenon where talent, passion, and vision are fueled by the spirit of servanthood.

* * *

Slugs & Bugs is embarking on their next endeavor – an all-Scripture CD. Everyday, we are given endless opportunities to support good things. I commend to you the following reasons you should consider supporting the Slugs & Bugs Kickstarter Campaign:

10. You may not paint, compose, write, or “create” in the way the world traditionally defines the word, but you can play a meaningful part in creating something beautiful. Without the Medici family, there may not have been a Renaissance. Help us make this happen.

9. Randall Goodgame has the unique ability to create quality music which is loved as much by adults as it is by kids. This proclamation comes from a parent whose fifth child never saw Barney or heard The Wheels on the Bus (I couldn’t take it anymore), but who is as likely to put Slugs & Bugs on the day’s playlist as are the kids.

8. We hear plenty about the brokenness of our world. This is an opportunity for you to help bring light into the darkness. Thy Kingdom come.

7. You’ll get to hear Sally Lloyd-Jones (of The Jesus Story Book Bible fame) read Scripture. Imagine joining Peter Pan for story time in the Darlings’ nursery. Delightful.

6. It’s always a good idea to keep presents on hand to be used for birthdays, baby showers, Christening or baptisms, Easter baskets, Christmas, and the list goes on and on. In supporting the project, a stack of cd’s (and other treats) can be yours. And you don’t have to go to the store.

5. The average American spends $1,000 per year on coffee. Skip a few cups and support Slugs & Bugs.

4. You’ll get to hear and support the African Children’s Choir. Visit here for a preview.

3. In addition to Randall Goodgame, The African Children’s Choir, and Sally Lloyd-Jones, Andrew Peterson will be joining the gang yet again. The only thing that’s better than listening to great music – is listening to dear friends making great music (not to mention clever antics and general tomfoolery) together.

2.  Community is created when like-minded folks work toward a common goal. Consider inviting your book club, small group, Bible study, MOPs group, playgroup (you get the picture) to pitch in and contribute to one of the higher-level options. You may be the beneficiaries of a house concert tailored specifically for your group, or even a LIVE SLUGS AND BUGS CONCERT (the crowd goes wild)!

1. When I asked my youngest son why he thought people should support the Slugs & Bugs Scripture cd, he said, “To spread God’s Word to all the nations.” I can’t top that one.

 

* * *

Grab your kids, or your spouse, or your friends, and make a few minutes to watch the Slugs & Bugs videos on the Kickstarter page. You’ll get a taste of the vision for the new CD as well as the heart behind its making.

You can make a difference in less than five minutes, you can support the Slugs & Bugs Kickstarter campaign by visiting here.

One of my best friends wrote these words, and was gracious enough to let me share these words with the world.  I can see this being printed out and put on refrigerators everywhere for a dose of encouragement.

Thank you to my dearest friend, Andrea Hartman!  These are her fine words:

I remember back to when we were homeschooling, on those really hard days when the house was a mess, and I was a mess, and the kids were a mess, and I would be having the passing thought  that I should send them to school.  School would be better for them than this.

We had to do public school this year.  We might have to again.  You might have to one day.  It’s not the end of the world, but now I see the public school experience not from my own experience, but from the experience of my children.  I feel like I am really blessed with the knowledge of ‘both sides of the coin’ here.  We are planning to go back to homeschooling this coming fall, so I have written a Homeschooling Manifesto. I didn’t write my little manifesto to discuss the negatives of school, but to reconnect myself with the essence of homeschool.  I’d love for you to read it, file it away, and on those crazy days, you can pull it out and remind yourself of what you are really doing.  I promise you, I will be reading it next year, many times.    I hope you enjoy it!

 

Today, in New England, it was a beautiful day. Sunny, breezy, low 60’s. Perhaps to my Florida family, this is a chilly day, made for long sleeves and snuggles. But to my northeastern friends, this was a day for opening windows, climbing trees, and running through the grass barefooted.

As I gratefully cracked open my own window over the kitchen sink this afternoon and felt the cool breeze on my face, I realized that these three aforementioned activities are so very symbolic of the choice our family has returned to- homeschooling.

For a variety of reasons, our family tried public school this year. I must say, that of all the public schools out there, this is one of the best. Not because of test scores or academic standards, but because it is old and has character, it is small and cozy, and the principal is there every day, accessible and available to chat with a smile on her face. One cannot say this of many public schools.

My older two children started off the school year with much enthusiasm. They were quite excited to try it out. The idea of a whole room full of children was brimming with potential, thoughts of playgrounds and indoor gyms delighted them, and school buses were held in the utmost reverence.

So off they went, every day, with new backpacks, clean teeth, and nicer clothes than they had ever owned before. And all was well. For a while.

But slowly I noticed a change. The windows were closing. The breezy, graceful, happy freedom that had once blessed these little people was being replaced with something more rigid. As I said, it was slow, and we marched on through Winter Break without putting much thought into it.

Then came February break. We were not travelling nor were we hosting any visitors, so it was just me and the kids, doing whatever we do, for a week. And it was such an uneventful, beautiful week! That curious, magical, yet oh-so subtle bond that we once had was rekindled. Such a funny thing. I hadn’t noticed we’d lost it till we found it again. A part of my soul was awakened by this realization, I could now see this bond and feel it; a very tangible, very precious gift. The night before school started back again, I was consoling two crying children. They missed me, they missed home, they missed homeschooling.

At this point, my heart literally took over my entire being. My rational mind was reeling, but I grabbed it by the hand and plunged ahead. I began searching out new homeschooling groups, researching curriculums, and planning for next school year. At home.

Now, as the school year edges toward its close, I am looking at the entire school system with an unbiased eye. I do not wish to love it or hate it. (We are actually having the kids complete the school year, because in most cases I support finishing what is started.) And this is what I see:

There are rules and norms, cool things and uncool things. Age and sex become factors for friendship. Judgment comes often and harshly, from state tests, prep tests, report cards, teachers, and other students. It is everywhere. Fun is relegated to lunchtime, recess, and P.E. (though recess is a privilege quickly removed for make-up work or poor behavior). Learning is a despised activity, consisting of sitting at a hard desk under fluorescent lights listening to a lecture that seems designed to bore; little more than test prep conducted by an over-worked, over-regulated, over-stressed teacher, stripped of any power to decide what or how she teaches. The emphasis, in the minds of the children, is not on what they learn, but where they rank in relation to their fellow classmates. And where is the respite, where is the expansive, creative outlet for these boxed-up children? Even at recess, that sacred 15-minute privilege, one may not play with small sticks, or climb trees, or dig in the dirt, and certainly one cannot be barefoot. (All those activities are reserved for eccentric homeschoolers.)

I am not writing this to bash the school system. The people there are doing their best with what they’ve been given, students and teachers alike. I am writing this for the homeschooling mother, the one who is exhausted, whose house is a mess, who hasn’t brushed her hair or taken a shower in several days, whose children are playing with toys in the bathroom sink instead of practicing their handwriting.

You, momma, are doing a fantastic job. Your children are living. Real, authentic, amazing living. Listen. You can hear them squealing with delight as they squirt water all over the bathroom mirror right now. They discover. They probe. They laugh. They learn. They are alive.

Your house may be messy, but your precious windows are open.

 

Lots of love,

Carrie

Filed under: Fifth Grade, First Grade, Fourth Grade, Homeschooling, Kindergarten, Second Grade, Sixth Grade, Third Grade

My last post was about how we made a window hanging out of old marker caps and other plastic tops by stringing them onto wire.  I thought it would be fun to share one more of our window hanging ideas because I often get questions and interest from our visitors about the window screens we have created in The Studio.  The Ribbon Window Shade uses some of the same materials as our Plastic Cap Window Screen and is a good way to explore the art of weaving.  It also provides some shade during the sunny weather that should be on its way soon!  Here is a list of supplies you will need to make a window weaving for yourself.

Materials:

Two tension rods that fit your window (We purchased ours at Target)

Duct tape to secure the rods

Colorful wire (We purchased ours at Home Depot)

Ribbons, strings, fabric strips, yarn or any other weaving material

First, you will want to put both tension rods in your window and secure them well so that they don’t move or shift when you start weaving.  Our window is 58 inches wide and we hung the two rods 36 inches apart.  I found that if you put some duct tape around the ends of the rods to attach them to the window they were much more stable and less likely to move once you begin wrapping the wire and weaving the ribbons.

 

The wire that we used is the same cable wire that was used for the Plastic Cap Window Screen.  It is colorful cable wire that comes in a gray or black encasing which can be easily removed by peeling off the casing to reveal all the colorful wires.  I suggest cutting the wire while still in the casing into lengths that are double your window length, at most.  Otherwise the wire can get too long and tangles easily as you remove it from the casing.  I began adding the warp (the vertical strands in a weaving) by looping the wire around the top and bottom rods.  Secure the wire into place by wrapping the wire back onto itself.   After you have added many lengths of wire this way then you are ready for the weaving part.  I ended up doing 60 strands of wire to fill our window, but you may need to do more or less depending on the size of your window.

We have quite a collection of ribbons, strings, fabric strips, and yarn and I found that starting at the top with some of the wider ribbon works well to get the pattern started.  To weave you should begin by pulling the ribbon OVER the first wire and UNDER the next and continue this pattern until you reach the other side (this back and forth pattern is done with the weft in a weaving).   The alternating pattern will create a fabric-like weaving.  And don’t be afraid to mix up your weaving a bit by going OVER two wires and UNDER the next one or making up any other weaving patterns you would like.  Whenever you run out of one ribbon or string pick up a new one and keep going.  I found that I could tuck some of the ribbon ends into place behind a wire but I also stapled a few together so they would be more secure.  I liked adding some of the thinner string in front of the thicker ribbons so that there were a few layers on top of each other in the weaving.  It is fun to experiment with whatever materials you are using to see how the textures and colors look with each other.

I hope you get to try out making your own window weaving and please take a look at our other window display tutorials like the ones below.

Window Color Wheel

Rainbow Window Shades

Plastic Cap Window Screen

 

I would also love to hear about any other method you used to make a window weaving so please leave a comment  to let us know what you did!

 

 

(via Voices)

Daniel Ridgway Knight

I adore beautiful gardens and especially roses. To see an prolific antique rose bush in its glory is amazing. In Vienna, near the Hoffburg Palace and also the summer palace where Marie Antoinette was raised, there are rows and rows of abundantly full rose bushes when in bloom speak of His divine touch and craftsmanship.

However, the grace and beauty of such a garden comes through much cultivation, planning and sacrifice of time. The bushes must be fed with the best of fertilizer, watered constantly to maintain proper growth.

Roses are especially vulnerable to mold and aphids and so the outside forces that would destroy them must be monitored and dealt with constantly. An eye of protection must look for any evidence of such pests. The more quickly the threats are dealt with, the less damage the bushes incur.

In winter the branches are cut back so far as to appear dead, at times seeming to have destroyed the very life inside. Yet,  the cutting back and training of the branches, allows the roots to grow deep and provides for a healthier long term plant.

The blooms are the fruit and glory of the cultivation of the plant. Yet, even the blooms are temporary and must be trimmed so that others may grow in their place.

The care of such a garden and particularly of the rose bushes is given because of the love the gardner has for cultivating such beauty. All the acts of cultivating and grooming the garden is that it may grow.

So it is with the discipline of children. Grace-based parenting is not just passively letting children go and over-looking their ways. Leniency and ill attention is also unacceptable. To raise and cultivate a lovely legacy of children requires so much time, attention, intentional discipline and training.

I have received interesting letters and been with women whose children are a nightmare to be with because they thought grace-based parenting meant not ever getting in the way of their children’s will or saying no to them or making them wait. Once a woman said her 3 year old spit on her husband and kicked him when he walked in the room, but she said, “He just didn’t understand grace based parenting and he is getting upset with my way of applying these principles.”

I would never, never allow such behavior in a child for one second unless I knew the child had a disorder of some kind that prevented more mature behavior. All children must be trained and taught and shaped in order to reach their full potential. But anger and harshness need not be the prevailing attitude. Strength can be exhibited by firmness with gentleness, consistency and guidance with love self-control as the base attitude of the parent.

Because I knew my children were going to be in a tough world, where their needs and whims would not be swiftly met, I knew that they had to grow strong inside and learn to develop an inner sense of strength and self-control.

So, it starts with the great soil of love, warm and tender affection, words of life and affirmation and acceptance–even if a baby is challenging and difficult.

Then, we feed our children daily on the truth of God’s word, modeling and training their little natures to have character. Saying prayers of gratefulness while shaping their little hands in a form of prayer to God every meal, snatching their little hands if they ever hit or grab a toy, saying, “No, you may never hit a child, you may never grab a toy.” Separating them when they misbehave, teaching them to have self-control by waiting the tiniest bit for mommy, not interrupting, not demanding. Encouraging them to share, to give, to help siblings, to serve others by giving them real live things to do.

Training children by giving them consequences that tug at their heart to choose to obey. Telling our children ahead of time what is expected of them. “We need to stop playing and clean up the den. I am telling you five minutes ahead of time so that you can finish what you are doing and then we will all work together. Do you understand? Tell me what I said. “

Shaping their little appetites for life with beauty, peace, self-giving serving of others. We are to be God’s instrument in their lives of turning them away from their own self-wills. We cut out the offending pests that would deplete the emotional, moral or spiritual health of our children–it means we must confront sinful attitudes, create consequences, train truth, and memorize scripture and train from that scripture! We must also create and allow difficulties to have their course in our children’s lives so that they may become strong and deepen their roots. If we steal them away from all that is bad or unfair, then they will never be able to stand on their own in a world at war with God’s principles.

It is a life of nurturing, cultivating, protecting, allowing to bloom, cutting back and shaping. It is an active life of constant attention and work. But the product is one of beauty, grace, and indeed has the divine touch of God’s handprint on it.

One of my older, godly friends who heard of our philosophy of grace-based parenting, and thought we could never raise godly children without spanking heavily and being strict, traveled with me and got to know our children very well.

“Sally, you are training and instructing and correcting your children all the time–constant instruction, “Now, we are going into a very adult concert and I trust you because I know you can choose to be mature. We need to be quiet, considerate of others and self-controlled.”

(“If you use a whiny voice, mommy cannot talk to you because, as you know I am allergic to whining. When you stop whining, I will listen to your request.”

“There isn’t much food for all the people today, so I would really appreciate it if our family could stand at the back of the line. I will be sure to feed you later if they run out of food.”

“Come with me to the other room, please. We need to have a little talk.” (and then the offending child will be given a mommy talk about the misbehavior or conduct, consequences if the behavior is not changed, with the child able to give defense, and if necessary, the child will apologize or share or whatever.)

The work of the gardener of souls is never finished, goes through many seasons, wards off many pests. But the end result–a godly heritage is more beautiful and sweeter to behold than I ever knew. The fruit of the planting and gardening produces more fruit and satisfaction that I would have understood.

Passivity, undisciplined–not allowed, but the grace of life-giving, always. It is the glory of the gardener to see the fruit of labor well-done, beautiful and in full bloom.

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Grace based does not Imply Leniency or Passivity! Giving Away Heartfelt Discipline! is a post from: I Take Joy

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I fell in love with classical music at a young age.
By accident.
It happened as a byproduct of my environment.

Songs from Kool and the Gang, The Police, and Michael Jackson played on the soundtrack of my childhood – right along with Brahms, Hayden, Tchaikovsky, and Mozart. In addition to pop tunes from the 8-track player, hours of ballet class contributed to my early musical education.  When I hear The Swan, the dancer inside me can feel the tension of lengthening stretches at the barre. The Waltz of the Flowers still causes me to stand a bit taller, as my body wants to prepare for a series of pique turns across stage.  I never stopped to consider that classical music was “out of my reach” as a child. It was an integral part of my everyday environment.

Shakespeare can feel very “out of reach” to adults. For many of us, a high school English literature class was our first introduction to, and perhaps our only interaction with, one of the greatest writers in the English language. Imagine what our relationship to William could have been if we had first encountered him when we were children.  When we saw the world with fresh eyes. When our hunger for story was greater than our fear of looking foolish and inadequate.

I commend to you the following list of books about William Shakespeare. Through their pages, children will become acquainted with young Will as he’s writing his first play. They will experience life at the Globe Theatre through the eyes of a young runaway boy. They will encounter the colorful cast of characters and the precarious situations that life brings their way. Our children have an opportunity to befriend, explore, and enjoy Shakespeare’s works long before they must navigate the more challenging language, and long before a demonstration of mastery is required from them. The characters become friends. Shakespeare’s stories – alongside Mother Goose, Aesop’s Fables, Anderson’s Fairy Tales –become cherished favorites.

And before you know it, they’re asking for “one more story from Shakespeare.”
Not because it was required.
But as a byproduct of their everyday environment.

* * *

Some of our favorite resources on Shakespeare:

 

Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare for Children by Edith Nesbit
Probably my favorite (but take into account that I’m a huge Nesbit fan).  Beautifully written, engaging, and true to story, yet each chapter is short enough to read in one sitting.

 

Tales from Shakespeare by Charles and Mary Lamb
A classic.  Similar to the Nesbit book, but the stories are a bit longer.

 

The Wonderful Winter by Marchette Chute
Highly recommended.  A little boy runs away to find himself living in the Globe Theatre.  He becomes part of the Shakespeare household.  Many of the actual historical characters are included, and we get to see “behind the scenes” as Mr. Shakespeare’s new play, Romeo and Juliet, is being produced.

 

Hamlet for Kids (one of a series) by Lois Burdett
This series is a fun introduction for children.  I’d recommend reading the Nesbit story first, then reading through Burdett’s corresponding book.  Each book tells one of Shakespeare’s stories through rhyme.  The artwork (and occasional commentary) is provided by children.  The stories are clever, fun, and often include direct quotes from Shakespeare.

 

Will Shakespeare and the Globe Theater by Anne Terry White
One of the World Landmark series.  A great piece of historical fiction that walks the reader through Shakespeare’s life and the Globe Theater.  An easy read, but I learned much.

 

Will’s Quill (or How a Goose Saved Shakespeare) by Don Freeman
A delightful picture book.  Found in most libraries.

 

Shakespeare for Children CD by Jim Weiss
Weiss is a master storyteller.  I’d recommend his cds for children of all ages.

If you have some favorites, please share for the benefit of others…

* * *

Happy Birthday 449th, William Shakespeare!
You’re still inspiring us to create.

 

Luka is 12 years old and has muscular dystrophy, which usually keeps him confined to his wheelchair. But thanks to photographer and friend Matej Peljhan, Luka is finding physical freedom in a unique, exciting way (even if it is imaginary).

Using sheets laid out on the floor for background and ordinary items from around the house for props, Peljhan photographs Luka from above in all sorts of situations that his disease prevents him from experiencing.

Check him out as he plays basketball, breakdances, and more…

(via The Daily Mail)

Randall Goodgame has a new Slugs and Bugs record in the works and it’s going in a whole new direction. We sat down with him to hear what he had to say, and before we knew what was happening, Buddy Greene walked in the door and kicked up a hootenanny.

Table Talk: Randall Goodgame (with Buddy Greene) from The Rabbit Room on Vimeo.