children
Children: Our most valuable natural resource.
Where the Wild Things are
Where the Wild Things Are. As a child I grew up a little different than many of the children around me. I was raised by my mother. When I was two we moved home to Newfoundland from Ontario where I was born. My parents were never married and my Dad was not involved in my life. I always felt like something was missing and my imagination was pretty eccentric trying to fill that emptiness with creations of my own mind. I had imaginary pets I would take for walks and take to the park and talk to. My reading level, according to my teachers, was a few years ahead of my age level. I would get so immersed in the stories, I’d connect on a completely different level with the lives and characters in the books I would read. I wouldn’t be able to tell you how many books I read as a child. It kinda let me forget about the chaos and my emotions and feelings about my own life and let me take on all these other roles. It was my therapy. I’d envision and become part of the pages I’d read, and when a story was finished, if I was really captivated by it, I experienced what I can only explain as a kind of mourning. Mourning the end of a journey I was on. Which would typically lead me to pick up the next story and start the cycle again.
By Tonya Newman5 years ago in Families
Sasha the Reef Shark
This is an Australian series about wonderful sea creatures and close-by land creatures, who work together to survive storms and threats to their survival. You meet a fascinating array of creatures with diverse personalities and endearing quirkiness. The stories are always morally uplifting, funny and usually deliver an unexpected twist, so always leave you smiling and wanting more.
By Bonnie Misha5 years ago in Families
Billy the breadman
Scientists and scholars often proclaim that a child's brain is like a sponge. As we all can agree, the comparison is simply stating that the brain of a child has a unique heightened sense of absorbency which, likewise of a sponge, can soak up anything in its parameters. Storytelling is a great exercise to help stimulate the development of children's imagination as well as cognitive receptors. When I recall growing up as a little boy, I did most of my reading on my own and it was usually at school. As proud as I was for having the urge to do so, one thing I lacked was the bedtime story. It seems to have valuable benefits for young children’s language development, and may also help their storytelling abilities and their understanding of others’ mental states. One day in the future, I plan on having kids of my own and because I didn't get to have that experience, I'll be sure to tell them the story about Billy the breadman.
By Rausheeim Bey5 years ago in Families
A Different Tale Of Corduroy Bear
Growing up, I don't remember all the stories I listened to, but the one I remember most is Corduroy. The cute little bear in the corduroy overalls, only my mom, told a different tale of the Corduroy Bear. Now my mom was known for telling my siblings and me stories she made up. She did her best to get our attention any way she could to get us to listen.
By Stephanie Downard5 years ago in Families
Nana's Locket
I watched my mother walk with tears streaming down her face to my brother, she whispered in his ear and gave him a deep hug. He melted into her. I watched this moment not understanding what was happening. Why is she crying? What is going on? Why is Matt crying, he never cries, he’s the strong one of our bunch? She stood up, looked him in the eyes, and she put something into his hands.
By Melissa Richardson5 years ago in Families
The "other" ending
Dad had a storytelling voice that I can still hear, the words sounding rich and full and within each word I could see the other worlds he was reading about. I could sense disappointment, fear, and adventure. Dad’s voice captured the soul of the story and drew me into the worlds of Brer Rabbit, Uncle Wiggily the rabbit gentleman, and every witch, villain, and princess from the Brothers Grimm. However, the best story dad read was The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen. It was dad’s reading of the “Great Dane’s” stories that made me believe the book jacket that claimed Andersen to be “the world’s greatest storyteller.” When I demanded stories from the book, dad insisted on reading from beginning to end, one story per day, so it was days of agonizing anticipation before he reached the last one, and my favorite. It is still my favorite today, but not Disney’s animated version. It might be strange that I prefer the more somber, slightly depressing version of this tale, because what little girl doesn’t want to hear about princesses finding their one true love and getting a happily ever after. But by age 5, I was already painfully aware that for most, there was no ONE true love, and happily ever after existed only in stories, but it wasn’t the ultimate ending for all fairy tales. For many storytellers of the past, their tales of love had a simultaneous ending of violent retribution at the hands of the wronged. Sleeping Beauty and Snow White come to mind, such sweet, presumably gentle young women who allowed their nemesis to die gruesome deaths for the wrongs they had committed.
By Ida Ghramm5 years ago in Families
Bedtime stories
Bed time stories, we have our favourites, they are integral to who we are, I don’t remember exactly which popular stories my parents told us at night to get to sleep, but at some point along the line, I know my Dad switched to his own creations. He would use names we knew from our lives, creatures we loved like penguins or horses and each with its own quirks and missions, and we were always assured that they would come safely home, although we weren’t always this side of sleep in order to hear it. The important thing is we knew we were being tucked into our quilts and foreheads were kissed to the stories of triumphs and of dancing with princes on glass floors. It didn’t all have to relate to a previous part or fit together perfectly, it was more about how it made us feel, how it was tailored to our unique tastes and we knew that we were there in the midst of it, centre stage; the star part in our Father’s eyes and he was our King for the evening.
By grace viccary5 years ago in Families
How Winnie The Pooh Changed My Life
When I was little my Father used to read me AA Milne’s Winnie the Pooh. I think piglet was my favorite. I always felt like a very small animal on the look out for a friend like Winnie the Pooh. I learned the character traits of Pooh, Piglet, Tigger, Rabbit and Eeyore. I loved the stories and amazing illustrations.
By S. L. Kirby5 years ago in Families
Mama's Magic Purse
Gina and her twin brother Charlie believed that their mama had a magic purse. They didn’t know where she got it or exactly how it worked, but the twins were convinced that the only answer was magic. No matter what they needed when they were out somewhere with Mama, she would always find it in her purse.
By Antonella Di Minni5 years ago in Families
