What Kids See in Giant Teddy Bears

Have you seen those giant, Valentine’s Day teddy bears?

WhatSeeTeddyBLOG

They’re huge, like 4 feet high just sitting. If you stretched out their legs, they would probably be life size. You could use one as a mattress. You wouldn’t even have to buy bedding because most of them come with a velvet heart pillow sewn between the paws.

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The Kid Who Copied Love

This kid is a tornado.

From the moment our little foster boy had leaped through our door, he had not stopped. Running, talking, playing, laughing, spinning, dancing, yelling, crashing, crying, pooping (that is another story); the kid did not run out of energy. We called him the energizer bunny. He kept going and going and going and going…

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Book Memories

Memories have a way of finding me suddenly, off-guard, and all at once.

Like a free children’s book that arrives in the mail one day, reminding me of little girls who used to live with my family.

The book was one of their favorites. They would ask me to read it to them over and over and over and over and over and over…

I got pretty good at using different voices while reading in order to make it interesting (for myself). They never got tired of the book. Even when I picked out other books to read, one of the girls would go find that book to add to the pile.

When I read the book, the older girl would “read” it along with me. Her little voice would mumble along until we got to the repeated “No!” parts, which she would pronounce loud and clear. She knew if I skipped over any parts and would remind me to read everything on the page.

I made sure she had her own copy of the book when she left our foster home. It put a smile on my face knowing that she would have her favorite book at her new home. Hopefully, it put a smile on her face too.

And hopefully her mother can forgive me for including a book that she has had to read over and over and over again!

Book Memories

Chicken

“Are you playing with fried chicken?”

My little sister nods, flailing the plastic drumstick in my face. “Bawk-bawk.”

“No, that’s the sound chickens make. This is ‘chicken’.” I reply. She nods.

“Bawk-bawk.”

“No, ‘chi-cken’.”

“Ba-wk-bawk.”

“No, ‘CHIIIIII-CKEN’.”

“BAAAAAAAAWK-bawk.”

“Bawk-bawk?” she asks, handing it to me.

“Sure, I’d love a bite of bawk-bawk. Thanks.”