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!”
Until this week, I had thought pearls were the result of random bits of grit getting into an oyster’s mouth. Turns out oysters usually just spit those bits of grit out. They don’t make pearls unless that random bit of grit is something they can’t just spit out — like a parasite or a bit of food lodged in their shells.
The Five-Year-Old’s favorite metal may be gold cooked by some long destroyed star, but her favorite necklace is actually made of materials forged somewhere much closer…
Some days it seems like all a vampire has to do to prove his moral worth is to hunt animals instead of humans. “And sparkle in the sun,” Daddyo pointed out. The Five-Year-Old was fascinated by the thought of a glittery vampire. But she quickly spotted the flaw in that strategy. All that sparkle could give away a hunter’s position, especially if you’re stalking a wily sort of prey, like Shaun the Sheep.
With Thanksgiving just around the corner, The Five-Year-Old’s world has become dominated by turkeys. Hand turkeys, color-by-number turkeys, dot-to-dot turkeys, even glitter turkeys, have all waddled their way through our house in the past week or two, on occasion escorted by a Pilgrim. With all this talk of turkeys naturally The Five-Year-Old wanted to know, “Mommyo, are there European turkeys?”
Walking home one day, my daughter’s mind was full of fossils. More specifically, she wanted to know if the rock with all the funky indentations she’d picked up could be a fossilized beehive. Sadly, most fossil “beehives” turn out to be fossilized coral. Here’s why.
While I enjoy all the little games around Santa, and I will be sorry to see them go, it is much harder to teach your child that it’s important to care for others when your child’s world is populated by magical beings who are perfectly capable of doing all that work on their own.
When she saw the Aristocats slurping happily at a bowl of cream, she naturally wanted to pour a bowl for our own cats. I had to shoot this down. Although Cozy, our normally timid grey tabby, would body slam Mulberry out of the way for a taste of the creamy stuff, the sad fact is our tabby’s tummy can’t take it. Why can’t cats drink milk?
I continue to be fascinated by this Strawberry Festival poster, which I found in the archives room of my church a few months ago. As does The Five-Year-Old, who after hearing my explanation of why the soaring price of ice in 1890 could jeopardize an entire festival, asked, “How did they make old-timey ice cream, Mommyo?”
After passing several fallen trees on our way to school yesterday, my daughter asked if she could prepare a special report for Caterpickles on how Hurricane Sandy affected Dedham, Walpole, and Norwood Massachusetts (aka my daughter’s stomping grounds).
Given the number of haunted houses and other Halloween-related festivities on The Five-Year-Old’s calendar this weekend, it seems like a good time to review the literature on a crucial question. Does garlic protect against vampires?
CATERPICKLES 