Story Time in the Sandbox

Flapdoodle on the Farm
by Jill Bever & Sheilah Currie ( http://www.storysomething.com/ )

Featuring...
> rosen as the boy who feeds the animals
> JTF as the boy's father
> MizPoint as the boy's mother

Rosen was a friendly boy who lived on a farm called Sandbox Acres. Every day, he got up early in the morning to feed the animals. He enjoyed this chore because all of the animals were happy to see him and eager, of course, to get their breakfast.

Rosen always started by going out to the barn to feed a new foal, named EdWin, who had been born in the spring. When he saw Rosen, EdWin pranced around the stall with delight.

“You’ll have to quit your horsing around, now,” said Rosen. “I’m giving you some extra food to help you grow big and strong.”

“Thanks, I’m hungry,” said the little foal, and he plunged his muzzle into the fresh hay. Between bites, he asked, “Have you had your breakfast yet?”

Rosen was about to answer when the sound of his dad Jtf’s tractor thundered just outside the barn.

VVVVRRRRooooooooom! VVVVRRRRooooooooom!

Rosen shouted, “NO. I HAVEN’T HAD BREAKFAST, YET, BUT MY MOTHER HAS BEEN BAKING BREAD.”

“What’s that?” asked the foal, “Your Mother Mizpoint has an aching head?”

But Rosen did not hear. He was already on his way to feed the pigs.

Mother Pig had just fed milk to all of her piglets, and now she was ready for her own breakfast. When she saw Rosen, she called, “Hello dear. Have you got a big bucket of slop for me today? I hope so, because I’m famished. And after breakfast, I’m going to take a nice, long mud bath.”

“That sounds like fun,” said Rosen. He poured some slop into the trough, and Mother Pig asked, “Are you going off to school today?”

Rosen was about to answer, but the piglets were rolling around in the pen and making an enormous racket.

Oink! Oink! Snort! Snort!

Oink! Oink! Snort! Snort!

Rosen bellowed, “NO, THERE’S NO SCHOOL. IT’S A HOLIDAY.“

“What’s that?” asked Mother Pig, “The mule took a fall today?”

But Rosen did not hear. He was on his way to feed the gigantic black bull, who looked rather fearsome but was as gentle as a kitten---a kitten with an extraordinarily deep and rumbling voice.

“Hello little Rosen,” boomed the bull, “What’s on the menu for breakfast?”

Rosen laughed. “It’s just what you ordered. I’ve got some delicious grass, and for dessert, some tasty sweet corn.”

The bull was excited as Rosen put out the food. He shook his horns and stomped his massive hooves, which rattled the chickens nearby so much that they squawked and bawked and filled the barn with a deafening clatter.

Squaaaaaawk! Bawk! Bawk! Bawk!

Squaaaaaawk! Bawk! Bawk! Bawk!

The bull ignored the commotion and eagerly chomped a mouthful of grass. Rosen picked up his bucket and hollered, “I HAVE TO GO AND FEED THE SHEEP.”

The bull looked up from his food in surprise. “What? You say you need to sleep?”

But Rosen did not hear. He was already on his way out to the barnyard. The sheep were tickled to see him and playfully asked, “Did you bring our breakfast today or did you give it all away? We’re starving.”

Rosen knew that the sheep loved a good joke, so he answered, “I just dropped by the horses’ stall. The hungry foal ate it all.”

“Good one, Rosen,” said the sheep, “but you can’t pull the wool over our eyes,” and they burst into a chorus of laughter.

Baaaaaaa! Ha! Ha! Ha!

Baaaaaaa! Ha! Ha! Ha!

Rosen chuckled as he poured the grain, but was startled by the sound of an ear-splitting Cockadoodledooooooooo!

The sheep were startled, too, and one of them said, “That rooster is late. He must have been sleeping on the job.” All of the sheep fell into fits of laughter.

Baaaaaaa! Ha! Ha! Ha!

Baaaaaaa! Ha! Ha! Ha!

Rosen loved to kid around with them, but he had to go. “I have to get back to the barn to feed the chickens and ...”

The rooster crowed again.

Cockadoodledooooooooo!

“...MY DAD JTF TOLD ME TO GATHER SIX EGGS,” he shouted.

Suddenly the sheep became deadly serious. “What? Your Dad Jtf has broken his legs?”

But Rosen did not hear. He was on his way to the barn. He wanted to finish his chores quickly so he could get back to the house and eat his own breakfast.

The sheep were very concerned. They decided to go into the barn and speak to the other animals. “We have some baaa-d news!” they said, “Rosen`s Dad Jtf has broken his legs!”

“And his Mother Mizpoint has an aching head!” cried the foal, “She isn`t well at all!”

“And Rosen`s not going to school because the mule took a terrible fall!” added Mother Pig.

“And he`s awfully tired,” boomed the bull. “He can hardly hold up his head! He says he needs to sleep, but it`s moo-rning...he just got out of bed!”

All of the animals were worried about Rosen and his family. They stayed in the barn and chattered for hours. When nighttime came, they were still too nervous and bothered to get any sleep. They talked and squawked and fretted until they had worked themselves into a frenzy.

Rosen was just about to get into bed when he heard the kerfuffle in the barn. He thought he had better go and check on the animals. “What`s all the fuss?” he asked as he opened the door.

The animals were huddled together inside the barn. When they saw him, they exclaimed, “Poor Rosen! Are you all right?”

“I`m fine,” he said.

“What about your family? Is everything okay?”

“Of course it is,” said Rosen.

“We`ve been so worried about you,” said the animals.

“But why?” asked Rosen. He was thoroughly puzzled and gave his head a scratch.

“Because of all the dreadful news you told us this morning!”

“Dreadful news? What do you mean? Everything is fine!”

“But doesn’t your Mother Mizpoint have an aching head?”

“No, I said she was baking bread.”

“But didn’t the mule take a fall today?”

“No, I said it’s a holiday.”

“But didn’t you say you need to sleep?”

“No, I said I would feed the sheep.”

“But you did say your Dad Jtf broke his legs?”

“No, I said I would gather six eggs.”

For a moment there was silence as the animals realized they had gotten their stories completely wrong. “Ohhhhh,” they said.

Rosen giggled. “What a lot of flapdoodle. Now I know why you were all so worried.”

The bull yawned a giant yawn that was a hundred times bigger than a kitten’s. Then he boomed, “I’m glad that everything’s okay.”

“I’m sleepy,” said the foal, “It’s time to hit the hay.”

“What? We’re going out to play?” asked the mischievous sheep and they fell over laughing. Rosen and the others laughed, too.

“No, it’s not time to play. It’s time to turn out the light and say goodnight,” said Rosen.

The animals quietly nestled into their beds of hay and, as he gently shut the barn door, they whispered, “Goodnight Rosen.”

Well, at least you didn't make me a cow or a pig.

The Hockey Lesson
by Erika de Vasconcelos

Featuring:
> LennyJessop as the boy who has to play hockey
> Grumpy Old Man as the boy's father
> Goth_chic as the boy's mother
> Deank as the skating instructor

Lennyjessop was a Canadian boy. He was born in a country where the winters were long and snowy and the summers were short and hot. When Lennyjessop was four, his parents, who had been born in a place where there was no winter, and certainly no snow, thought: We’d better teach him how to skate, or he’ll never learn to enjoy winter. He’s a Canadian boy, after all!

There was only one problem. Neither his Goth_Mom nor his Grumpy Old Dad knew how to skate. We’ll get him some skating lessons, they decided.

For his skating lessons Lennyjessop had to wear a snow suit and mittens and a hat and a big blue helmet. It took a long time to tie on his skates. First, his Grumpy Old Dad tied them too loose. Then, he tied them too tight.

I don’t want to cut off your circulation, his Grumpy Old Dad said.

What’s circulation? Lennyjessop wanted to know.

It took FOREVER to get ready. Lennyjessop felt strange walking with skates on. In fact, he felt like a penguin. Except that penguins don’t wear hats, and the hat Lennyjessop was wearing under his helmet was pressing against his forehead. It was making his head itch.

The skating instructor, Deank, said, “Follow me kids!”

Lennyjessop waddled onto the ice. He fell. It was tricky getting up again. The ice was covered in little bumps, like the surface of a strange planet. It would be cool to explore this terrain with a vehicle, Lennyjessop was thinking, when suddenly, a voice said: “Let’s make a line right here!”

It was the skating instructor, Deank.

Lennyjessop joined the line. He fell again.

“I want to go home,” Lennyjessop said.

His parents waved cheerfully from the side of the skating rink.

“I want to go home now!” Lennyjessop said.

His parents took him home.

“He’s just not ready,” his Goth_Mom said.

“Maybe next year,” his Grumpy Old Dad said.

The next year, Lennyjessop ‘s parents thought: He’s a Canadian boy, he’d better learn how to play hockey. There was only one problem. Neither of his parents knew how to play hockey. In fact, they had never even watched a hockey game on TV. So, they signed Lennyjessop up for hockey lessons.

The hockey school was at an indoor arena.

“Won’t that be nice,” his Goth_Mom said, “nice and warm.”

There was a lot of stuff to put on for hockey school. Lennyjessop had to put on some padded hockey pants, padded elbow pads, padded shoulder pads, padded shin pads, a neck protector, some hockey gloves, a hockey helmet with a wire mask on it, some special hockey socks and a hockey sweater. It took twice as long as FOREVER!

While Lennyjessop’s Goth_Mom was helping him put on all his gear, one of the other dads in the dressing room tapped her on the shoulder.

“The sweater goes on last, after all the pads,” he said, showing her how it was done.

Lennyjessop’s Goth_Mom started to laugh. Lennyjessop didn’t know what was so funny. Finally, he was ready.

“I can’t move,” Lennyjessop said.

“Sure you can sweetheart, just follow those boys,” said his Goth_Mom.

“What about my skates?” Lennyjessop asked.

“Oh, the skates! I almost forgot!” his Goth_Mom said, and laughed some more.

When the hockey lesson was over Lennyjessop’s parents said, “Wasn’t that fun?”

“Sort of,” Lennyjessop said. He didn’t want to disappoint them.

Lennyjessop went to hockey school for three Saturdays in a row. On the third Saturday, as he sat in the car on the way to the skating arena, Lennyjessop said, “I really hate hockey.

“Oh dear,” his Goth_Mom said.

“Do I have to go?” Lennyjessop asked.

Lennyjessop stopped going to hockey lessons.

Lennyjessop’s parents were worried about his future.

“He needs an activity,” his Grumpy Old Dad said.

“Sports are healthy,” his Goth_Mom said.

“He’s a Canadian boy,” his Grumpy Old Dad said.

Lennyjessop’s parents needed some ideas and Lennyjessop thought he should help them, even though he had been quite happy building a fortress out of wooden blocks.

“What activities did you do when you were little?” he asked.

His Goth_Mom and Grumpy Old Dad looked at each other.

“None,” they both said, at the same time.

Lennyjessop could hardly believe his ears.

“NONE?” he repeated, just to be sure.

“We just played,” his Grumpy Old Dad said, “outside.”

“It was warmer, of course.”

His Goth_Mom suddenly had a dreamy look.

“Maybe we should take a vacation,” she said, “somewhere warm.”

“Maybe we should,” his Grumpy Old Dad said.

“Would that be an activity?” Lennyjessop asked.

His parents scooped him up for a family hug. “It sure would!” they said.

They all went to Mexico.

Why did I have to feed the animals when on my Grandfather's farm he had hired men to do that job?

I checked out the link that GOM was good enough to include and when it said 4-8 years old, figured out that was about the limit to G.O.M.'s ability ! lol

While walking our dog Miss Rosie, one day, I came upon a man walking a three-legged pig. Of course I had to talk to him and did.

I asked him how he came to have such an animal for a pet and he replied that the pig was very, very special...that the pig could actually do arithmetic in his head in fact.

He spent the next half hour showing me the skills that this pig possessed.

To my utter amazement, the pig would think of the answer for a moment , then give the answer by actually drawing the numbers out in the dirt.

21 times 9....he would scratch out 189.
428 divided by 16 and he would scratch out 26.75.
It was truely remarkable....mind-blowing, as a matter of fact.

He said he came upon this pig when walking near Steinbach a year ago. This pig came up from behind him and just followed him home he said. And the counting thing came about by accident one day when he was ordering some food delivered and he wanted to make sure he had enough cash on him. The pig added the numbers up before he could and scratched the total (including taxes) on the floor.

I was even more amazed now.

Finally, I asked him how come the pig had only three legs.

He replied that he didn't think it was appropriate to eat such a special pig all at once.