They go by the names "chatbots," "digital assistants," and "virtual assistants" The more accurate VPA software produced by AI technology made them available! VPA devices can be seen to communicate like individuals using voice or text messaging, with witty retorts, and to be notable companions. There is no need for the kids to sit and stare at televisions for hours on end. Worse even are the antiquated radio systems that may no longer be enjoyable. What about multitasking when you browse the internet? Children enjoy taking their quizzes to them, and they may provide excellent useful feedback. The company of Alexa keeps kids from feeling isolated. Games provided by Alexa are both entertaining and educational for children and their parents. What a relief it is to have Alexa and Siri at home! Alexa knows all the answers! Does it? 🙄 One effect of relying too much on smart devices like Alexa, Siri, and Google Assistants may be poor social skills. Target children may lack good manners, particularly in courteous speech and answers. The less learning possibilities provided by the devices may interfere with children's growth.
A good friend of mine has a very warped and funny sense of humor. One of his favorite comments is: “Opinions are like a@@holes. Everyone has one.” Every time he says this, while I do agree with him, I also laugh with him. Keeping that in mind, here is one of my opinions. While many will agree with me, I also realize there will be just many who won't. As my friend says, you're entitled to yours. I don't often read magazines; I just don't take the time. I do, however, read books to relax, write stories, and dabble around with photography. Truthfully, I only read two magazines. One of them I do enjoy is The Week; I like this magazine because it contains a bit of news from every state, there is a science section, important national news and so much more. It is just about the most interesting magazines on the market. I probably should have written this article years ago, but at the time, I was angry and put the magazine away, as I kept thinking, “How dare he?” Then through the years, I'd forgotten about it. Now, looking back to that issue of March 27, 2015, one of their columns was about clothes designing company called Dolce & Gabbana. It was that article that angered me beyond words. One of the owners, Domenico Dolce was quoted during an interview as saying, “We oppose gay adoptions. The only family is the traditional one.” He went on to describe children born through IVF as “children of chemistry, synthetic children. Rented uterus, semen chosen from a catalogue.” Apparently, Mr. Dolce does not believe in adoption or in in-vitro fertilization. Actually, according to his statement, he doesn't even believe in gay marriages. It's a shame when you think about it. There are so many wonderful, intelligent, gay people who have made their mark on the world and became pillars of society. I have met and made friends with many people who are gay but rather than go into all of them, I prefer to tell you the response to Mr. Dolce's comment made by Elton John. Elton John has two children with his husband, David Furnish. Each child had a surrogate mother who conceived them by in-vitro fertilization. Mr. John's response was: “How dare you refer to my beautiful children as pathetic. Your archaic thinking an out of step with the times, just like your fashions. I shall never wear Dolce & Gabbana ever again.” Ironically these Italian designers who happened to make this atrocious comment are gay, but they consider themselves traditional believing that while they should and can live together, they should not marry nor have children. That's something I just don't understand. If you have a partner with whom you are in love, why shouldn't you get married? Why shouldn't you have children, whether it's by in-vitro or adoption. And let's for a moment jump off the Rainbow train. Whether gay or not, what happens to couples (men and women) who desperately want a child to increase their family but for whatever reason, can't conceive? You mean to say they shouldn't be allowed alternative methods of having children? Since that article, Mr. Dolce has apologized to the gay community. Yet, I can't help but wonder why? Did he apologize out of sincerity? Or did he apologize because his sales were in decline? Hmm. Makes you wonder. Sorry, even if I could afford the items Dolce & Gabbana sell, I surely would never purchase any of them. I'll stick to Walmart and Target!
It seems like only yesterday when my granddaughter, Stephanie was seven years old. At the time, my son and his family lived in New York making visits infrequent but enjoyable. Seeing them was always a treat. One day in 2005, almost became a disaster. My son, and his family arrived on a Saturday afternoon. While the house was in order and the bedrooms cleaned and ready for them, what I wasn't prepared for was Stephanie's loose tooth. My daughter-in-law wasn't too concerned thinking it would stay put for another two or three weeks, since it didn't seem loose enough to fall out. The plan was a week-long visit with me, then they would be heading to central Florida for a week with Joanne's mom, then back to New York. We did whatever could to make that week fun, interesting, and memorable. One day, we decided to make a trip to a local nature park where we would have the opportunity to see live animals: boars, cows, steer, birds, and alligators. We were all excited since we never had the good fortune to see these animals close enough to take a picture or two. We arrived at the park early and ate the picnic lunch we packed. Not long after we finished eating, it was time to turn in our admission tickets and board the sight-seeing bus for the tour. Anticipation grew. We were eager. But that turned out not to be the highlight of our week. We arrived home late in the afternoon and decided to make a cookout of burgers and hot dogs for dinner with a side dish of homemade macaroni salad. As my husband grilled the food, my daughter-in-law and I set the table. My son and his children were in the pool. Before I knew it, the day was done, and the kids were heading to bed. We four adults stayed up watching TV and taking about the shows we watched. We laughed and had a few great moments, then we headed to our respective bedrooms. Early the next morning, we were awakened by a loud scream. It was my granddaughter. Thinking the worse, all of us raced into her bedroom, expecting to see blood – or - or, we had no idea or what. What we saw was Stephanie standing by the bed, hysterically crying, hold something in one clenched fist. My daughter-in-law quickly wrapped her arms around her daughter and said, “Steph, what's wrong? Please tell me.” Steph pulled away slightly, unfolded her tightly closed fingers, and exposed a tooth! Her tooth! In between sobs, she said, “Mom, the tooth fairy won't know where I am. She'll never find me!” Joanne looked at me a rolled her eyes. That is what had my granddaughter so upset! We tried to console Steph, but it wasn't easy. Then, as if a lightbulb went off in my head, I had an idea. But it had to wait a day. The next day, thinking she'd never get her dollar from the tooth fairy, Steph tried to enjoy our trip to the wharf where we hoped to see dolphins in the harbor. We ate lunch at a local restaurant, walked around a seaside village and then headed home. It was obvious that Steph was trying hard not to spoil the vacation for her family but just as obvious that her heart was longer enjoying it. I pulled my daughter-in-law aside. “Let her stay up a bit later. You'll see why when she falls asleep.” Once Stephanie was asleep, I drove to the supermarket and bought a small bouquet of flowers. Arriving home, I wrote a note, “Dear Stephanie, I apologize that your reward for giving me another tooth was delayed. I went to your house only to find you weren't there. I went to your grandmother in central Florida. You weren't there either. Then, Bingo! Here you are in southwest Florida. I hope these flowers and your extra reward will put a smile on your beautiful face. Love, The Tooth Fairy.” My daughter-in-law laughed and said it was a great idea. My husband and son thought I was crazy. It was worth a shot. I tucked a $5.00 bill in an envelope (a bit larger than normal since the tooth fairy made Steph wait so long), put the flowers in a pretty blue vase, tied a ribbon around the vase, then leaned the envelope with her name printed on the front against the glass vessel with the flowers. Then I quietly exited the bedroom with my fingers crossed. The following morning, we heard, “MOM, MOM! Come look!” Again, we raced in the direction of her bedroom. She was holding her envelope and said, “The tooth fairy found me! She left me money and flowers! My tooth that I put under my pillow is gone! Mom, she found me! I don't know how she did it, but she found me.” My daughter-in-law looked at me and we shared a secret smile. My son and husband, looked at each other and I heard my son say, “Well, I'll be damned!” What might have been a sad week for my granddaughter's vacation, turned out to be a happy surprise and a moment to remember! Yes, what a moment and what a memory! Thanks to the tooth fairy and a supermarket that didn't close early.
How does it feel? To birth children and let them suffer for bread? Their cross, at a tender age, made to bear. They struggle and strive To survive in all fear, Amidst tears, education, and etiquette they forgo, For money and survival, they endure. How does it feel? To see these little ones suffer hardship unknown? Heartbreaks and traumas, they face untold. Responsibilities and breadwinning, at a tender age, exposed to. Can we not do the reproduction? Until we have adequate parental provision? Can we not bring them to the existence, When in the end, they will question their existence? These little ones have crosses to bear. But can it be a ‘just' one? The right one for their age and time Can we let them bear the cross of excellence? Can we win their daily bread? And to take up responsibilities bigger than they? Can we birth them when we are ready? And capable of giving them a life they deserve? One which is theirs? I write to becoming parents & spouses. Think of that ‘fetus' life after delivery. Birth, not that child because you impulsively want a child. Birth them for their good. The cross is too heavy for our present-day children. The struggle is tougher to them than it seems. Their young shoulders are beginning to sag. Their tiny little feet are beginning to fret They come to stagger in motion Yet the world lives in contention Some children are torn in between Who may help or redeem? And to help them bear the cross?
Once upon a time, there was a little boy, with no name, no color and no place to live. They say he lived in the sunflowers as there was his favorite place, but the thing is that he couldn't, actually see them, he was blind. The only color he had on him, was the black of his beautiful curly hair. Fed up of not being able to see the beauty around him, the little boy went to the wisest man in his village, he was known as “THE EBONY GUARDIAN”, he lived in a small, humble house just out of the beautiful sunflowers field, he was known to be the darkest man of his village and therefore, the wisest. As in the whole village, black was considered a sign of nobility and wisdom. “Master”, said the little boy, in sign of respect. “May I ask you something?” “sure, go ahead little boy!” said the man, looking at him. “do you know who I am, or where I come from or why I have no color at all?! I wish I could have a color just for me” said the boy looking sad and frustrated at the master. “I don't know what color you are or what is your name or where your place on the Earth is, but I can show you a place in this word where all the colors live together in the light that you can see and in the dark that hides everything”. saying that the master led the boy to the most beautiful place he'd ever seen, full of butterflies and flowers. The boy looked at the master curious and said: well, these are all the colors the world can be? Where's mine then? What color should I be? Do they speak any language that I could learn or am I a stranger even here? Whispered the boy so disappointed. “shhh! Whispered the master smiling at the boy, “watch”, added him pointing at the sky. The boy couldn't see anything so far. “White as the light before to show up its shades, black as the night where all the colors rest, until a new day comes and the rainbow lives again”. As soon as the master pronounced those words a wonderful rainbow stood up in the sky, with incredible, brilliant colors. Those colored lights hit the boy who had finally found what color he wanted to be, not just one but all the colors of the light, all the magic of a rainbow. “what's your color then?” asked the master “All the colors of the light!” exclaimed happily the boy. “And what's your name?” “Rainbow!” “And, finally: where do you come from?” “I come from the light that spreads in the world all the wonderful colors of the rainbow! The boy eventually, had found his colors, a name and his place, he always kept on the top of his head the black where the colors were hidden. And while the world goes on, fighting to decide who sparkles more than everyone, somewhere in a nowhere there always will be a rainbow to show the light with its colors and a dark, quite night to let them rest until tomorrow.
Loving my son is like the purest of seas on a white, sun-dappled beach. Palmtrees sway calmly in the cool breeze in the backdrop. The warmth on that beach hugs you. Your toes tickle the silky soft sand, there where it meets the turquoise water. You gasp and your tummy registers butterflies - purely from enraptured happiness - because you see brightly coloured fishies and stingrays and sea turtles glide contently underneath the water's surface. You're in touch with nature, in the here-and-now. You feel peaceful and calm, you want for nothing and everthing you need is there, in that moment. The sun glistens on the water, sparkles richly like diamonds: God's Thousand Wonderful Winks. You turn around and the few people you love so dearly smile at you. They offer sunscreen, an umbrella, a seat, a cold drink and freshly prepared fruit (and, of course, some chocolate and a pizza). You breathe in and out, all stress and worries drifting off into nothingness. In the far distance, you hear music; your body slowly tunes into the beat, your hips wiggle along. You hear the leaves rattling rhythmically in the wind. You smile back at them. A single tear trails your cheek, your lips, and disappears down your neck. It's a tear of the happiness that the intense love you feel gives you. That is how I love my little boy, laden with pride, selflessness and extreme gratitude.
A story that provides information to young children (7 and older) about the Corona Virus (Covid-19). THE VIRONAUT Sami had fun talking about ‘adventures' in his class. “Adventures are exciting activities,” the teacher explained. That evening Sami's mom announced that schools would close because of corona virus, also called Covid-19. “What is corona virus?” Sami asked. “It's a harmful virus or germ that makes people sick as in colds and flu. Corona virus makes some people very sick,” mom explained. “Why close schools, Mom?” Sami asked. “When people come close to one another, corona virus spreads fast. When people stay at home, they are safe. The virus stops spreading,” Mom said. “How?” Sami asked. “When a person sneezes, coughs or spits, the droplets fall on another person, who can then get sick. The germs also fall and stay on surfaces like tables, books, pens or handrails. The corona virus lives for days on surfaces,” Mom explained. “So, there can be corona viruses on surfaces at grocery stores or drugstores too, right?” Sami asked. “Yes. That's why when we go out, we stay at a distance from people and try not to touch surfaces,” Mom replied. “What if the virus gets on our hands anyway? Sami asked. “That's why every time we come back, we wash our hands with soap and water for at least 20 seconds. If there is no soap and water, we use hand sanitizer,” said Mom. “One more thing,” Mom said. “Stop touching your face with your hands. If you do, the virus on your hands will enter your body through your nose, eyes, ears or mouth.” “Can we look at a person and tell if he or she has the corona virus?” Sami asked. “People who look well can still be carriers of the virus. They can infect another person in the same way as someone who is sick with the virus,” said Mom. “But what will we do at home with no school?” Sami asked. “We'll follow the school routine,” Mom said. “But once school work is done, you are free to do anything you want,” Mom said. “After I finish schoolwork, I'll be a vironaut and have adventures! I'll kill all the corona virus germs!” Sami announced. Mom made Sami a vironaut costume with a mask and gloves. As soon as Sami completed his schoolwork, he put on the costume. “Virrrooom!” he called out and was ready for viroaction. The doorbell rang. He ran down just as Mom opened the door. There was a package on the doorstep. “Wait,” Sami told Mom. “Virrrooom!” Sami called out, zoomed and got a pack of disinfectant wipes and a pair of latex gloves. “Mom, put on these gloves and wipe the package first,” said Sami Mom did. She opened the package and took out a rug. “For you,” she said. Sami unrolled the rug and saw numbers on it. “It's a hopscotch rug!” Sami exclaimed. Mom put the rug in the family room. “Virrroom! This is fun!” Sami played hopscotch. “Let's walk to the park,” Mom said. “Wait Mom,” said Sami. “Virrrooom!” Sami dashed to get disinfectant wipes. At the park, Sami cleaned the bench for his mom. He cleaned the swing seat and the chains before sitting on it. There were two other people in the park. They kept their distances from one another. “I'm happy we both got some exercise. Exercise keeps the body strong to fight the corona virus,” Mom reminded Sami. They walked home. “Virrrooom! Hand washing time!” Sami announced. “Lets do the virocount to make sure we wash for 20 seconds.” As they washed, Mom and Sami repeated, ‘vi-ro-naut 1, vi-ro-naut 2 until they reached vi-ro-naut 10'. It took them 20 seconds. They washed between fingers and under their nails. They washed up to their wrists. Sami was still in his vironaut costume when Dad came home. “Do I know you?” Dad asked. “I'm a vironaut, a killer of bad viruses! Virrrooom! Dad, come, I'll show you how to virowash your hands,” Sami said. At dinner, Sami looked at his plate and saw broccoli in it. He wanted to say no to broccoli but today Sami was a vironaut. He must eat healthy. “Virrrooom!” Sami finished the chicken, potatoes and broccoli. Mom asked, “Sami, what would you like for dessert?” “Virrrooom! Fresh fruit please,” said the vironaut. The day's adventures had made Sami sleepy. Mom and dad came to say goodnight. “Virrrooom!” said Sami and fell asleep.
When we first met, some 35 years ago, I was so pregnant with my first baby, I resembled an overstuffed couch. I'd forsaken style when I couldn't reach around my own belly to shave my legs, sporting enough hair to scrape clean a BBQ grill. You, having just sold a million dollar house, crossed our threshold like a runway-model, tall and confident, pivoting on heels resembling knitting needles. You warmly embraced me and I caught the subtle scent of an exotic perfume. The last fragrance I'd worn came from a flap ripped from a waiting-room magazine. “I'm so envious,” you whispered midst a cheek peck. “You look amazing.” I wanted to find fault in you, something ugly. Unfortunately, we had to get along. Our husbands were loyal friends having just returned from months serving on an aircraft carrier. I loved my husband enough to oblige. Besides, you cursed, gossiped, and fiercely loved your man, instantly winning me over. That afternoon, we sat in my kitchen with the government-issued paperwork before us. Form-DD193 was a mandatory document for married officers and signing it meant one of us would be present at notification time should the other's husband get killed-in-action. While the guys watched football in the den, you and I discussed a contract where we'd bear witness to the other's worst nightmare. Before signing, you took my hands in yours. “You need to understand something.” Your eyes were sharp and sincere. “If Ken dies, I'll know. I'll simply get his gun and pull the trigger.” I gasped. Then, you made me promise never to tell a sole. In utter shock, I nodded. After releasing my hands, you flamboyantly scratched your signature on DD193 and grinned as though you'd just sold me a duplex. That afternoon, we passed across bits of ourselves like poker chips. Enamored by your every word, something more than my baby swelled inside me. It was the seedling of our friendship. In time, you confided you couldn't have children. I simply had no words. The more I understood you, the more you both fascinated and troubled me. Killing myself wasn't an option because I was a mom, but what if I wasn't? Did my not wanting to take that eternal journey with Jimmy mean I loved him less than you loved Ken? Or did it mean I loved myself more than I loved Jimmy? At 23 years old, I hadn't a clue. In many waning hours, I imagined what I'd do if I got 'that' call. Would I physically restrain you? I'd have a small advantage over you in your stilettos, but I couldn't hang on to you like a chimp forever. I once asked if you even knew how to shoot a gun. “Don't need to know when the only target is in my own mouth.” While our husbands deployed to foreign lands over the years, you and I ran the gamut of emotions. I came to understand that you missed Ken more than I had room to miss Jimmy. You and I survived Thanksgivings and Christmases together without our husbands.You held my hand when I gave birth the second time and stayed with me until Jimmy returned. You were the catalyst for my return to grad school. After years of friendship, our husbands were being transferred to opposite American coasts. We spent our last Sunday together, laughing and relaxing on deck chairs, avoiding conversation about our impending separation, but it loomed large. The following morning, Jimmy left before dawn for his last two week deployment and I was exhausted but rendered wide awake. I distracted myself with moving preparations, avoiding thoughts of going months, perhaps even years, without seeing you. By mid-afternoon, fatigue hit me like a tranquilizer dart and I laid down with the boys for a delicious nap. The phone woke me and I answered but heard only dial-tone. Sometime later, my fuzzy brain registered the doorbell ringing. I slid from the bed and jogged down the stairs, not wanting the boys to be startled awake. I opened the door to find five or six officers in dress uniforms standing before me. For a second, I was confused until the pieces quickly fell into place. I had to go with them to tell you Ken was gone. “He's dead, isn't he?” I grabbed the door frame. I had prepared for this, certainly thought about it more than the average military wife. I stifled a sob; there would be time to cry later. I took a deep breath. I had to do this for you. “What about my boys? I can't leave them here alone.” “We can help you with your sons, madam.” The tallest of the men looked uneasy in his stiff jacket as he gestured towards an impeccable, uniformed woman I hadn't noticed. “Ms. Louise is a child psychologist. She'll stay as long as you need.” Dazedly reassured, I shifted focus. I would share your plan with these professionals. Hell with betrayal, I knew what was about to unfold and it terrified me. I closed my eyes and shook my head. I prayed I was still dreaming but when I opened my eyes the officers were still there. They slowly parted as if on cue. That was when I saw you.
To Lose a Child Through Life - A Poem It's impossible to know that you child is still OK To protect your child was your job, so you think you failed in every way When your child is no longer with you and still so very young You can't help but think there must be more you could have done You turn the music up and sob while in your car and the shower hides your tears You know you can't survive this kind of loss another day, another month, another year Yet, the years go by and you realize you're still alone Although you did all you knew and could, your child did not come home The child you carried and brought into this world has gone away There's nothing left to do but pray and pray and pray How evil are those who desire nothing more than to destroy the mother-child bond You continue to seek justice, but the gutwrenching pain goes on and on No matter how huge the loss, you have no choice but to start another day Without your child that gave your life meaning in every way You lie down at night and think of your child and feel so all alone There is nothing in this world you want more than for your child to just come home. - Robin Karr Losing a child ‘through life' is the most horrific way to lose a child.Until a couple of decades ago, nobody had ever lost a child in this way– at least not in mass numbers. And, children didn't go missing ‘legally'. No mother should ever have to lose a child through life. It's not normal. It's not natural. There is no closure. There is no end to the gut wrenching pain. The wound does not ever heal. In fact, it never even forms a scab toward healing. It remains perpetually open… The taking of living children from living mothers is something so terrible, so evil, that there is no way to really describe such a loss. Not really... Mama loves you, Bradyn and Gracelyn
Today, I read a small introduction to a webinar I am taking through Friesen Press and it told me that I am an Authorpreneur. The term is very unique to me and it made me feel like my life long writing career has become just that, a legitimized career. I have been an Entrepreneur since the age of four with my first lemonade stand out side my parents house. I've always known I was a business minded person and today my writing career has really solidified it's position in my life. I am so overjoyed because the job part finally feels real and to be so open to the world is such an amazing and overwhelming feeling. I am humbled by this new experience. This is truly an amazing moment. In the next post, I'll have some examples of my work for You. My exciting novel "Viktor, Into the Light" will be coming out in the summer of 2020 and my Thanks goes to Friesen Press for making this lifelong dream come true. Viktor, called an "epic" good versus evil story by Friesen Press excites me to tell you about it. He's sexy and moral. He discovers a few things about his family and longs for one of his own. Look for it in the Friesen Press bookstore or eBooks and give a copy to your staff, friends, mother, sister, or your aunties. Viktor is a satisfying read for anyone 14+. Well, I'll post some examples of my work for you now. See you in the next post. Julie Ann
Squinting, she shielded her eyes in the mid-morning heat. The African landscape did not change, which was the case for every other day. Today, a group of 5 and 6-year-olds from the valley trudged wearily uphill as she sat under the canopy of the majestic ancient Oak tree. The 7-year-old teacher blinked at the fissures in the sun-baked earth. This year the drought was especially severe and the sugar-cane stalks stood withered and depleted from the long dry spell. Her students were tired, but their eyes shone bright with enthusiasm as they approached her. “Good day, Madam,” they chimed in unison and burst out in little-girl giggles. Sam, the brat of the pack, and the only boy in the group, leaned against the trunk, and rubbed the salty perspiration filling his eyes. They appeared a little bloodshot and he blinked hard. The girly chatter was not a point of interest to him. Momentarily, the group sat down for a lesson on counting and writing. Today the weather lashed out mercilessly in a different way. The wind howled through the copper pipes and the spooky whistling sounds of a haunted house movie permeated the public school building. Dove studied the group of kindergärtners sitting at their polished wooden desks. It was a far cry from thirty odd years ago under the old Oak tree. Her dream to be a teacher had finally been realized. Madam Dove was going to change the world. Just as she turned to write the sight word for the day on the chalkboard, Dove saw quick movement in her peripheral vision. Her head snapped sharply just in time to catch Lesedi push a tiny, tightly rolled paper ball into Taylor's ear. “Lesedi!” shouted Dove. The shock of being caught out caused him to abruptly pull back his hand; feigning innocence. “Mam, Mam! My ear!” screamed Taylor as she came rushing to the front of the class. Dove slowly and quietly counted to ten as she calmly took Taylor's hand. The first day of the second term was not going exactly as planned. Deal with removing the paper ball first, and the naughty kid a little later. For now, Lesedi will be on time-out. It was a good thing the paper ball could be removed easily. Lesedi was promptly reprimanded, and counselled on the dangers of putting anything in another child's ear or anyone's ear for that matter. As the day progressed, the mishap of the morning seemed to have faded into the distant past and all appeared to be going smoothly. At 1:06 pm, Vuyo's middle brother, Unathi, came in to fetch him as this was the custom after the last bell rang promptly at 1:00 pm. Shortly after they left, Vuyo's oldest brother, Kani, came to class looking for him. He was accompanied by the driver of their taxi. Dove looked puzzled and explained that their brother, Unathi, had been in earlier to fetch Vuyo which was the standard arrangement. By this time, both Kani and the driver seemed confused and a little agitated. Apparently, the younger boys were nowhere to be seen. Kani and the driver, still looking baffled, left in search of Vuyo. Soon a harried looking administrator came rushing into the classroom. The boys were missing. And so began a chain of events that would forever be stamped in Dove's mind. While still energetic and conscious of the benefits of a healthy lifestyle, Dove was not as lithe or supple as when she was in her youth. One look followed by a sharp command from the administrator was enough to set her legs in motion. Cagney, a colleague from the class next door accompanied Dove on the mission for the search of young Vuyo and his brother. In the next forty minutes, Dove and Cagney ran through the brambles and bushes adjoining the school. Frantic calls for the boys could be heard echoed in the wind in the undergrowth. When they reached the neighboring elementary school, they dashed through the closing gates in time, and any hope of finding the boys was short-lived. Realizing the gates were already locked for the day, Dove and Cagney scaled the over 9 foot wall. As they barely made it over, a voice could be heard shouting, “Come! The boys are safe home! They walked home.” When a bedraggled Dove and Cagney finally returned to school, they were met by a relieved administrator wearing a sheepish grin. “Their mom called to say they had walked home.” Dove sat down heavily on the grass and sighed with relief. Thank God the boys were safe. That over 9 foot wall was nothing compared to the joy of knowing the boys were safe home. Every year thousands of children go missing. This is a rampant global problem which affects the lives of people from all sectors of society. As a teacher and mother, I would not wish this on anyone. I can only try to imagine the pain and agony of a parent whose dreams are haunted by that of a missing child.
There was a moment, as the sun rose on your seventh day on Earth, when we both lifted our heavy eyelids from something similar to sleep at exactly the same time. We stared at each other for a collection of seconds, I slowly awake so that I can steal some additional precious moments with my sleepy daughter her name is Dakota and as her mum I give her cuddles in bed in the morning to help her and myself get passed the groggy stage of sleep. After rising I sip my coffee and puff on a cigarette while it is yet still dark I ponder my day. It plays over in my mind and I make a mental note of dinner so I can begin its preparation early.\n\nWhat I wasn't expecting was to feel happy and loved. our morning cuddles and Dakotas soft whisper that she loves you and your the best mum in the world is a magical moment. It creates The kind of love that leaves you happily weeping in a shower long after you've scrubbed every inch of your body - cause you feel the same way about her you're just desperate to keep the water running so you can \\"enjoy\\" your feeling of being loved for just a few more minutes more and have a cry on your own without her seeing you do it.\n\nYou leave your shower feeling refreshed and invigorated it's time to bath the little Princess get breakfast and get her ready for the day. You have fun together getting her dressed piggy tails are so cute on her. Breakfast goes quickly toast and porridge and cartoons bluey her favourite cartoon.\n\nWe spend an hour dancing to crazy songs spinning eachother around vicariously to the beats of old rock music. Dakota loves twirling around and being spun around a few little giggles and laughs begin and it usually leads to more cuddles and conversation about which song to play next.\n\nWe venture out for the day catching buses to our local shopping centre where we walk around together window shopping looking for stuff to buy for Dakotas birthday that's coming up this month.\n\nconstant nagging for Lollies is the norm and we usually settle it pretty easily with a dollar lollie from the lolly bar and Wendy's ice cream for Dakota it's her treat for behaving and its nice to see her enjoy an ice cream.\n\nDakota loves the bus she regularly chats to old ladies and bus drivers on our journeys. being that Dakota is a very social little girl. She happily greets the bus driver and the often thanks him for our driving us on our journey as she leaves the bus. It makes me extremely proud to see her using her manners and communication skilks and being the delightful little girl that she is.\n\nI feel super proud of Dakota as her mother she is a beautiful happy healthy little girl with a vibrant personality Dakota is extremely caring and compassionate and it makes her even more important to me as her mum. Sometimes she can be difficult but it's usually only when she becomes bored.\n\nWe end our night much the same as we begin our day. we curl up in bed together for a big cuddle and talking session where we share our favourite parts of the day and share story's with each other about our weeks passed.\n
frog the air was cool, the water chilly the frog sat on a waterlilly for him to swim was not so pleasing he liked to watch the water freezing, practised jumps on the ice, and not very much later became famous as the worlds first and best figure skater.