Why does putting an apple in your brown sugar keep the sugar soft?
This fall, The Seven-Year-Old and I went apple picking at Radke Orchards in Indiana. While there, I picked up a little paperback book of Old Fashioned…
On an average day, my daughter’s question-to-declarative sentence ratio clocks in at a healthy 5:1. In this section of the blog, I explore what happens when instead of saying “I don’t know,” I say “Let’s find out!”
This fall, The Seven-Year-Old and I went apple picking at Radke Orchards in Indiana. While there, I picked up a little paperback book of Old Fashioned…
Yesterday we met some friends for a Sunday afternoon meander through the Spring Valley nature preserve in Schaumburg, Illinois. As part of her program of studying trees (a project made easy by the fact that the park has little signs identifying each of the major types in the preserve), The Seven-Year-Old came across a little green and red-striped bug crawling along an old log. What is that?
On a recent trip to Field Museum, The Seven-Year-Old and I wandered into a tiny room downstairs that looks deceptively like a pleasant little reading nook. There’s a desk, a wall of butterflies, a collection of bugs trapped in amber, and rat-sized beetles. What are those things called?
It’s March, which means that any day now, The Six-Year-Old will morph into The Seven-Year-Old. The Six-Year-Old is slightly obsessed with dragons (and their Viking trainers) at the moment, thanks to Cressida Cowell’s How to Train Your Dragon books, so we are planning a dragon (and Viking)-theme birthday party for her. Naturally, the topic of what kind of birthday cake we should serve came up.
Pretty much the only thing my husband likes about winter is snow cream, so when we heard that Governor Patrick had declared a snow emergency for Massachusetts, we stocked up on condensed milk and vanilla so that we would be fully prepared once the snow finally arrived.
With an actual temperature of 6 degrees F and a wind chill of -16, it was too cold to walk The Six-Year-Old to school this morning.…
The Six-Year-Old, upon learning that her blue corn chip is made of blue corn and not simply soaked in blue food coloring, asked: “How many colors…
Remember when The Six-Year-Old used to be so excited about what was in those presents under the tree that she tore into them without paying any…
This year, Patricia McColl self-published a version of Clement Moore’s classic poem, Twas the Night before Christmas, which edited out all mention of Santa smoking his pipe. And that’s a shame, because censoring objectionable things in old books robs parents of a chance to talk to their kids about why opinions on those things have changed.
I don’t know about you, but I’ve been fielding a lot of Santa questions lately. This one’s been coming up a lot. How does Santa fly?