Origami afternoon

Do you want to know what we did Sunday? The afternoon was rainy, we couldn’t go outside and play, so our parents helped us with these…


Is this great or what?

Ok, I’m swollen with pride. I think I’ll blow up if I don’t tell relieve my inner pressure…

This is the science project I presented to school this morning. Yes, I did this. Well mom helped a little, and even my sister gave a hand (but that didn’t help at all ;)).

So? What do you think? Am I an artist or what? ;P

Why can’t I say… that word?

It’s really unfair!

I’ve been grounded. For almost 10 minutes I had to be in my room without my favorite toys, just looking at the walls (according to dad I should think in life!)
Why? I don’t even know… Ok I said that word repeatedly, and dad kept saying that I shouldn’t keep repeating that word, but it was not that important was it? It’s just a word. i still don’t understand why can’t I say it. What’s the difference between that word and the other hundreds we use to talk, to express ourselves? And if there’s a difference why is that no one can explain it to me?
When I said something like this to my father he just said:

You can’t use that word because I told you so. You can’t use it and that’s it? And everytime you use that word you can be sure you’ll be grounded!

What kind of reasoning is this? I know I’m just a 4 year old kid and I don’t have a clue on what is logic and so on… But if I would know what logic is, I’m pretty sure I couldn’t find any here… “because I told you so”!? Is that even an argument? It doesn’t look like, right?
When my mom came home I turned to her for some enlightening on this issue, and so I asked her, what was this about; why can’t we use this word? Hr answer was quite long and I didn’t understand half of it, but I did retain one word: convention. There was something about society rules, and conventions and the fact that all the people together as a society have decided to ban some words out of our daily discourses… Well, Although I didn’t get half Of what she was saying, I could understand there were some arguments in here. Fumble ones, but still they were arguments – see how it works, dad?- and one could resonate on them.
That’s when I asked my mom, why would our language have words that we couldn’t use in the end? That didn’t make much sense to me, did it? What did the person who invented our language have to say about this?

But as I was waiting for my mother’s arguments, she said: “It’s time for dinner, honey. We’ll talk about that tomorrow, ok?”

Well, the dinner was meatballs, so I’ll guess I’ll continue with this some other time 🙂

© Fat*fa*tin | Stock Free Images & Dreamstime Stock Photos

That fruit in the bottle…

– What’s your favorite color, son?

– Orange, dad. I love orange, don’t you?

– Yes, I like orange too, Zee… And your favorite food? What’s your favorite food?

– Humm… I like meatballs! With spaghetti… That’s my favorite food, meatballs with spaghetti, dad…

– Great, son, that´s very good. I like meatballs, too. And what about fruit. What’s your favorite fruit?

– Oh, that one is easy, dad… I love those drinking fruit that come in those bottles… That’s definitely my favorite fruit!


Marty, the king!

Today, as my father was reading the morning news, I noticed a picture of a good looking man. I thought this man had something about himself. I could notice he was very self-confident. He looked like he knew what he wanted to do and how. He was sure of himself and I could see he was dedicated to his cause. Whatever that was.

But that was not what caught my attention and made me look again to the picture. It was…

–       Who is that man, father?

–       Was, son, was. This man was the Reverend Martin Luther King. He was a very noble man. Many years ago, he fought so that everyman should be equal.

–       How did he fought father? Like my little soldiers? Did he have a rifle?

–       No, son. He didn’t.

–       Was he like the Indians? Did he have a bow and arrow?

–       No, son.

–       Was it a machine gun? Did he have a machine gun? Joe took a machine gun the other day to school. It was very cool. It made sounds and…

–       No. Not a machine gun, son. He had something better than a bow and arrow, or a rifle, or a machine gun. He fought with ideas.

–       Oh. Ok. But that’s not that interesting. You know Buzz has lots of neat guns. That’s why he became friend of Woody.

–       What? Who are Buzz and Woody.

–       My friends: Buzz, the astronaut, and Woody the cowboy. You know, those toys in my bedroom.

–       Oh… I see.

–       You know dad. Now I know what kept my attention with that man: Marty, the King.

–       Martin Luther King…

–       It was the fact that he is able to play the swing with his two kids, dad. Now I know it’s possible! So, next time we go to the playground I want to play in the swing with you and my sister. I know it’s possible!

–       I don’t think so. It depends on the swing you know.

–       Dad. Don’t make me fight you.. I too have ideas!

Life is like a lemonade…

Most things in life are just like doing a lemonade…

To begin with, you have to chop a lemon in order to do it. It is not possible to have the lemonade and keep the lemons.

Then, you have to work a little so that you can squeeze the lemon into juice.

But there’s a point when every bit of effort you put into it, doesn’t pour juice into the cup anymore. You just get some little drops of it… and nothing more. And then you try harder but that’s just it. There’s no more juice in that lemon.

Just like most things in life. There’s a lot you get out of the new toy when you get it! It’s a lot of fun to play with the new action man in the first few weeks. You can imagine hundreds of things to do with that new game in the beginning. But there comes a day when it’s not a novelty anymore… it just takes a lot of effort to get another drop of juice.

And that’s when you get it. It’s time to squeeze some oranges now. I’m done with lemonade!

(Image from http://flic.kr/p/6g8WUx)