Chickens Are Like Babies…

Want a weird observation?

Take a small (about 1kg), whole, chicken.

Wash, pat dry, and remove skin. Snip off ends of wings at the joint.

Coat with seasoning mix (I used Tandaco Southern Chicken – if you want to know).

Pick up chicken underneath the wings. Notice how the little arms flop over your hands and the legs sort of hang loose.

Isn’t it disturbingly like holding a new born baby?!

It is! Yikes! It’s creepy, creepy, creepy!

What are you meant to do with an observation like that? Why have an observation like that?

Let’s play a game…try and write the nude chicken/new born baby analogy into a scene/piece of flash fiction. I would LOVE to see what you can all do!

PS I’m not really into dinner tonight, just so you know.

Not Today! – ages 6 months +

Take it away! Take it away! Don’t you know I don’t like toast today?

Bring me cheese and bring me jam, bring me apples and chips and ham.

 

What do you mean that’s not breakfast food? Fine, I’ll eat it so as not to be rude

 

Take it away! Take it away! Don’t you know I don’t like blue today?

Bring me my pink dress, not those long pants, bring me my soft shoes so I can dance.

 

What do you mean it’s too rainy and cold? Fine, if I must I’ll do as I’m told.

 

Take it away! Take it away! Don’t you know I don’t like playing with dolls today?

Bring me a bike with round black wheels, I’ll race down the hills with shouts and squeals.

 

What do you mean I don’t know how to ride? Fine, if I must I’ll stick with the slide.

 

Take it away! Take it away! Don’t you know I don’t like sausages today?

Bring paper and pencils galore, I’ve got ideas and pictures to draw.

 

What do you mean it’s dinner time? Fine, if I must I’ll eat mine.

 

Take it away! Take it away! Don’t you know I don’t like books today?

Bring me spoons and pots and pans, I want to start my own kitchen band.

What do you mean it’s time for bed? Fine, if I must I’ll lay down my head.

 

Wait, don’t go! Won’t you stay? I want to tell you about my wonderful day.

Lay down here and hold my hand. Tomorrow’s a new day and I have so much planned.

 

What do you mean? We can do it all? There’s no adventure too big, no wish too small.

 

 

 

I’ll Never Ever Invite a Dung Beetle to Tea – 6 months +

Just a quick little rhyme to share with the littlies.

Happy reading!

 

Monkeys eat bananas and I like them too.

Dogs like a meaty bone to chew.

Caterpillars eat salad and that’s fine with me,

But I’ll never ever ever invite a dung beetle to tea!

 

Cats like fish, I like mine with chips,

Birds will share my apples and carry off the pips.

Mice can always share their cheese with me,

But I’ll never ever ever invite a dung beetle to tea!

 

Seagulls will gulp my sandwiches if there’s nothing else around.

Some pigs delight in truffles, if they can be found.

Ducks love bread when I give it for free,

But I’ll never ever ever invite a dung beetle to tea!

 

Rabbits spend all day munching carrots

And crackers are favoured by piratical parrots.

My little brother gobbles chocolates with glee,

But I’ll never ever ever invite a dung beetle to tea!

 

I’m really not a fussy eater,

And I’m sure  that they couldn’t be sweeter.

But what dung beetles eat just isn’t for me,

So I’ll never ever ever invite a dung beetle for tea!

 

 

There’s a Pirate Living Next Door – Ages 18 months +

Yet another story for little ones although this one is written in verse. I used to write poetry all the time when I was an angst ridden teenager (ooo, I cringe just thinking about it).

To be honest, when reading to B1 and B2 I hate rhyme but then there’s always exceptions like the fabulous Hairy Maclary by Lynley Dodd and anything by Dr. Suess but especially The Lorax. It actually makes me tear up some most every time.

What makes a good rhyming story do you think? And have you ever written something in rhyme that you feel works well? Have a read through and let me know. As always, happy reading.

 

The man next door, bent and old,

His joints stiff, his hands cold,

Used to sail the seven seas

And over the fence while I plucked peas,

He told his ocean tale to me.

He was feared across the waters,

By men and women, sons and daughters.

His eyes shone like the sun on the waves,

He surrounded himself with vicious knaves.

Who could fight them? There were none so brave.

His beard was as long as a mermaid’s tail,

His back as straight and strong as a nail.

There was no ship he would not attack,

No storm so fierce that he’d turn back.

No waves too high, no sky too black.

And then one day this king of the sea,

(He whispered this part to me),

Asked his loyal men to follow him into the swell,

But his men did not take that well.

And under their might the captain fell.

“Mutiny!” the captain cried from the hold,

But for his life, he did as he was told.

They searched his maps and knew where the treasure lay,

They demanded he take them there that day.

They all had swords. What could he say?

They dropped anchor just off a golden beach.

The first mate, a foul-smelling leech,

Bound the captain’s hands with rope and chain,

Pulled them tight to cause great pain.

The captain’s struggles were all in vain.

At sword point he lead them across the sand

But what happened next they had not planned.

Those pirates could not suspect,

The captain had one true friend yet.

Jake the parrot, his faithful pet.

As they crested the golden dunes,

They heard a fear inducing tune.

The screech and scream of Jake and his friends,

Parrots, monkeys, all of them,

Bearing down upon the men.

They scratched and clawed and bit,

While the men tried to slash and hit.

The animals were all too strong,

The pirates wondered how it all went so wrong,

While across the beach, dark shadows stretched long.

As the sun went down they ran away,

The captain never saw them again since that day.

“But what about the jewels and gold?”

I asked the pirate, feeling bold.

He winked and, if he knew, he never told.

And then, not long after that,

He packed up his parrot and feathered hat.

I like to think he went back to sea,

That, that is where he’ll always be.

On the waves, fierce and free.

Little Feet – ages 0 +

I have two feet.

Soft feet, smooth feet, squiggy feet with little toes.

I like my feet.

First

 

In summer my feet are friends with the green grass and the dandelions. They leave their mark in the soft sand and become wrinkly in my paddling pool.Second

In winter my feet hide in black gumboots and splish, splosh, splash through puddles. They kick up the fallen leaves and snuggle inside thick socks in front of the heater.Third

I have the world at my feet.lastpage