Copilasi din 2002 (11)

Gabbriela spune:

Little Little sister

One upon a while ago, not so very lingo ago – and far away, but not so far that you couldn’t walk there in a week or so – there lived a farmer and his wife.
They lived in a hose at the foot of the mountains, under a broad oak tree in the middle of a fine field beside a wide river. The house was small, but not too small, and they thought themselves rich, for they had a little barn and an apple tree, and a horse for ploughing the field, a brown cow for milking, six seep for shearing, ten red hens for laying eggs, a cock for crowing, a cat for ratting, and a brave dog for barking.
Best of all, they had a fine son to gather the eggs – unless he forgot; to carry the pail of milk from cow to the kitchen – though sometimes he spilled it; and to feed the horse his hay – which he did very well when remembered.
“What more could we whish for!” said the proud farmer each night after supper as he leaned back in his chair and lit his pipe.
“Not a thing, unless it be fair skies tomorrow,” said his wife each night if the day had been cloudy. When the days were hot and dry she said instead, “Unless it be a good rain tomorrow.”
And every evening when the wife made her answer, the son looked up form whittling a new flute or whistle and added, “Or a nice little sister.”
Then the farmer would sigh.
And his wife too.
For they were growing older, and had given up hope of another child to share their pride in the fine house and cow and sheep and hens, and their pleasure in the house and dog and cat.
“Too late for that,” said the farmer each night with a shake of his head.
“Too late,” his wife agreed with a sigh.
And their son turned back to his whittling.
That winter was deep and hard. The river froze. Snow fell all day, every day. It fell and fell until was heaped as high as the farmhouse eaves. And because the barn was too far for the farmer to go in the cold and snow to feed them, the horse and cow and sheep and chickens stayed sung indoors with them farmer and his wife and son and the dog and cat.
The animals dozed all day each day. The farmer sharpened his plough by the fire. Or cleaned his boots. His wife spun wool into yarn. Or knitted it into socks. Their son whittled a little wooden ball for the cat to play with, or a spoon for stirring the soup.
On one such day the farmer set to mending the horse’s harness. His wife-sorted apples to slice into rings hang from the rafters to dry, and their son whittled rods to hang them on.
After supper that evening the farmer leaned back in his chair and lit his pipe. “Come, now!” What more could we wish for?” he said as before.
“Not a thing,” his wife replied. “Unless it is bright skies tomorrow.”
But just then, as their son was about to wish the wish for a little sister that he always wished, and the dog spoke, plain as plain.
“Put up your knife, good wife,” said he. “That apple’s not for slicing.”
“Well,” said she, “that’s fine with me. I’ll eat it myself.”
And she did, and spat the seeds into a saucer and ate the core, core and thought no more about it, but went to hang her apple rings to dry. The horse went back to sleep, the cat yawned, and the dog stretched out in front of the fire without another word.
The next morning, the son rose at cockcrow. When he climbed down from the loft, the horse and cow and sheep and cock and hen and cat and dog still were fast asleep. But the farmer and his wife stood peering down at the saucer that sat on the table.
“My, oh!” exclaimed the farmer. And he beckoned to his son. “Come see!”
“My, oh indeed!” said the farmer’s wife. “Come see what has grown from the apple seed!’
The son’s eyes grew round, and his mouth made an O of surprise. For they’re in the saucer, fast asleep, lay a baby no bigger than a newborn mouse. He bent close to touch one tiny foot with a careful finger.
“Little sister!” said he. “Little little sister.”
And he clapped his hands for happiness. “What could we wish for now?” he cried. “Not a ting in the world. Not a single thing!”
He carved a fine cradle for Little Sister. And a box with a lid for the blankets his mother wove from the finest wool, and a handle for a tiny seedpod rattle.
And year-by-year Little Sister grew-though not very much, brother did not care about that. He thought there could be no one so pretty, no one so dainty, in all the wide world. He whittled her a Birchwood bed, and a cherry wood chair. He whittled her a little oaken table and carved apple wood plates and a cherry stone cup, so that Little Sister could sit at her own place atop the big table when they all sat down to supper. Brother fetched this for her and made that for her, whatever might please her or keeps her safe.
He saved nine silver pennies to buy a tiny silver spoon. He made a box like a little room with a door and window, so that if she were alone in the hose she could shut herself safe away from the cat. Then he saved six silver pennies more, to buy a collar with a bell for the cat to wear.
But Little Sister liked the cat. She played ball with her. She rode on the dog’s back. She was afraid of nothing and curious about everything, most of all about the river and field and the entire wide world outside the cottage.
“No, no,” said the farmer. “The wide world is a danger some place, my dumpling.”
“Indeed it is,” agreed his wife.
“I’ll carve you a boat to sail in the sink,” said Brother, “and plant you a window box with moss for grass, and wee little tree.”
The wee little tree was very nice.
And every morning when Brother went out to do his chores, Little Sister sat under its braches to watch to the window and wonder about the wide, wide world.
One morning each week the farmer and his wife walked to the village to sell their eggs and milk and cheeses. Brother stayed home to plough and harrow and sow and weed the field beside the river. On one such morning the horse fell lame, and Brother went off and away to the crossroads atop the hill beyond the wood behind the field, to buy a pot of liniment from the little old woman who lived there. “I’ll be back in no time at all,” said he.
But the morning passed. Brother did not come back, and did nor come back. At last Little Sister put on her cloak and her wooden clogs, and slipped out through a hole only she and the cat knew of. The cat went along to show her the way. Some of the time Little sister rode on the cat’s back. Some of the time she walked.
The shadows grew along and the sun slipped down behind the tall trees. Still Little Sister saw no sign of Brother, but she was not really sorry, for though the road was rough and the way long, the breeze was fresh and the wide world very beautiful.
“Have you seen my brother pass by?” she asked of all she met on the road. “He is tall as tall and good as gold.”
“Not I,” buzzed the beetle and the bumblebee.
“Not we,” piped the puddle of tadpoles.
“Perhaps,” said the little red squirrel. “If it is he who sits under the crossroads tree eating the poppy seed cakes.”
And it was. For the old woman’s cakes were warm from the oven and light as air, so that Brother had forgotten his errand and stayed and played on his flute all the afternoon to earn another taste, and still another. Only when he spied Little Sister and the cat stepping up the road did he see how long the shadows were. He thrust his flute in one pocked, the pot of liniment in another, and Little Sister in a third, and ran all the way home.
“Never again!” said the farmer when he heard what Little Sister had done. “The wide world is no place for you, my cabbage.”
“No indeed,” agreed his wife. “And the cat should have warned you so,” said she.
“I’ll board up the cat’s hole,” promised Brother. “And I’ll not forget to come home again. Not ever.”
But he did.
On the very next market day, no sooner were the farmer and his wife off and away to town than the horse cast a shoe while ploughing. So what could Brother to but un-harness him and lead him up and away to the blacksmith for new one?
The clouds blew away and the day grew warm, and by noonday Brother still had not returned. At last Little Sister tied on her bonnet and drew on her clogs, and slipped out under the door. The dog barked a warning, but when Little Sister said, “Come,” he fell into step beside her. They walked and they walked. They passed the crossroads and the old woman’s house, and as they went, the sun grew so hot that the still air shimmered and Little Sister began to will. But still she would not turn back, so the dog walked above her like a four-legged parasol and she was cool in his shadow.
“Have you seen my brother?” Little Sister asked everyone they passed. “He is tall as tall, and as true as steel.”
“No,” said the snail and the earthworm,
“Not today,” said the tortoise.
“Perhaps,” said the toad, “if he’s sitting by the blacksmith’s shed down the road, drinking cider.”
And he was. For the blacksmith’s yard was shady, his cider sweet and cool. And his anvil made such a merry cling-clang! That Brother had stayed and played his flute to it all the afternoon. Only when he spied Little Sister trudging up the road in the little dog’s shadow did Brother think of the lateness of the hour. He put Little Sister in his shirt pocket, broke off a leafy branch to shade them from the sun, leaped up onto the new-shod horse, and trotted briskly home.
“Bless me,” said the farmer when he heard of it. “It seems the wide world is no place for either of you.”
“Indeed it’s not,” agreed his wife, “and the dog should have told you so.”
Poor Brother was as sorry as he was warm and sweaty. “On my conscience, I’ll never, never forget to come home again,” said he.
“You will,” said Little Sister.
“Won’t,” said Brother.
But he did.
One market day not long afterward, the farmer fell ill. So he sent Brother to market in his place, to sell the brown cow’s daughter. Brother clapped on his hat and set off proudly. The sun shone, the heifer trotted, as obediently at Brother’s side as if he were the farmer himself, and Little Sister was safe and snug at home.
Or so Brother thought.
At the crossroads atop the hill he slowed, remembering the taste of the old woman’s poppy seed cakes.
“To market, to market!” called a small, gruff voice. It sounded a very little bit like Little Sister, but she of course was sung at home and her voice was not at all gruff. Brother decided it was his conscience telling him not to dawdle. So on he strode with the heifer at his heels until he came to the blacksmith’s, and heard the merry cling-clang! of the anvil. Remembering the taste of the blacksmith’s cider, he slowed.
“To market, to market,” cried the small, gruff voice. So Brother, feeling quite proud of his conscience, marched briskly past the blacksmith’s shed, the heifer trotting behind.
At the market square in the town, many farmers admired the heifer. “I’ll give three crowns,” said one. Brother grinned and would have agreed, for three crowns were three gold coins more than his pocket had ever seen.
“Too little,” said the small, gruff voice.
“Too little,” echoed Brother, changing his smile to a frown.
“Five crowns,” offered another.
“Too little,” warned the voice.
“Aye, too little,” said Brother.
The heifer was sold at last for nine gold pieces, and Brother was mightily pleased with himself and his conscience. So pleased was he that he bought a beef pie and a bowl of milk, and sat himself down at the roadside, never spying how dark with clods the sky had grown.
“There!” said the small voice before he could eat a bite. “I knew it. You’ll be late home again. And I smell rain!”
“What a fine conscience I have!” cried Brother, jumping up. “I knew it would not let me forget to go home again.”
He drank up his milk, wrapped the pie in his handkerchief, and popped it into his pocked, and set off for home as fast as his feet knew how. Little Sister – for the small voice was indeed she – Little Sister and the pie bounced and jounced along together. She began to wish she had chosen another poked to ride to market in.
The lightning flickered and the thunder rolled.
The wind snatched off Brother’s hat and sent it on before him. The rain clouds raced after him as he ran.
Soon fat drops plopped on Brother’s head. They dropped one by one at first, and then by dozens and hundreds. Split-splat-split-splat! And then they poured down like a waterfall.
SHROO-OO-OOMSH!
Rainwater rushed over the ground, and down the road in a river. It filled Brother’s boots, and went swulsh-slosh, swulsh-slosh as he ran.
“Hurry! Hurry!” cried a small, gruff voice as Brother passed the blacksmith’s shed.
“I am, I am!” panted Brother to himself. But just a long, dark shape came bobbing along the rushing, river road and knocked him heels over head.
“Catch it! Catch it!” Little Sister called as Brother picked himself up, for the long dark shape was the drinking trough for the horses the blacksmith shod.
“I will, I will!” cried Brother as he ran after the trough.
When he caught it, Brother lifted it and poured out the water, for he was very strong.
“What a good idea I have!” said he to himself. “And I’ll take trough back to the blacksmith tomorrow,” whereupon he climbed in and skimmed away down the road in the drinking trough.
Little Sister stood on the meat pie, the better to see out from Brother’s pocket as they sailed downhill on the river road. All there was to see of the valley below were raindrops, treetops, and water, for the rain had filled the wide river and spilled over its banks. It slid across the meadows and swallowed up the old farmer’s field. Only the hedge tops showed were the filed began.
At the bottom of the hill, as the horse trough sailed along beside the hedge, Brother stoops up, the better to see.
The farmhouse sat safe atop its hummock. But alas! The barn stood window-deep in water. Little Sister heard the old horse neigh and the brown cow moo. The cock and the ten red hens huddled on the henhouse off.
“The sheep! The sheep!” shouted Little Sister, spying six twitching noses and six pairs of wild black eyes crowded together against the hedge.
Beh-eh-eh! Beh-eh-eh, the silly sheep bleated.
“Hold fast! Hold fast!” bellowed Brother as the trough sailed on toward the gate. In no time at all he was hip-deep in the water, and soon hat the six sopping sheep stowed safely in the horse trough.
“The roof! The roof!” cried the little little voice.
“What a fine idea, my good conscience!” said Brother. “The rain is still raining and the river still rising, so I put the sheep on the roof. They are sure to be safe up there.”
And once the sheep were safe on the farmhouse roof, Brother went to barn to bring the horse and cow, and then to the henhouse for the cock and the hens. After he had put them all up to roost beside the sheep, he opened the farmhouse door and strode in proudly.
“Do you seem dear Father?” said he. “I come straight home as my conscience told me, and I have saved our six silly sheep from drowning, and put all of the animals safe on the roof.”
But the farmer only groaned and turned his face to the wall. His wife wept behind her apron.
“What is all that to us,” sobbed she, “when Little Sister is lost inthe storm, drowned and swept down to the sea?”
“But I’m not! I’m not!” cried Little Sister from atop the pie in Brother’s deep shirt pocket.
At that, the farmer leaped from his sickbed to dance a jig for joy with his wife. Brother was so pleased that Little Sister had not been drowned and swept down to the sea that he did not care in the least that it was had brought him safely home and not his fine conscience at all.
The farmer marveled at the nine gold coins Brother gave him. And when he had heard the whole of it, he shook his head. “The wide world may be no place for either of you alone,” he said, “but together you do a veru well.”
“And so they do,” his wife agreed.
So from that day on, every week on market day, Brother carried the eggs and milk, and cheeses to market, Little Sister sold them for the very best price, and the farmer and his wife stayed at home and blessed the day the clever dog said, “That apple’s not for slicing.”

---

Gabbriela & www.babiesonline.com/babies/j/julianleonardo/" target="_blank">Julian
0 - 2 years 2 - 3 years
Opere de arte

Gabbriela spune:

Old MacDonald’s Farm:


1. The Hobbyhorse
I had a little hobbyhorse,
And in was dapple gray;
Its head was made of pea-straw,
Its tail was made of hay.

I sold it to an old woman
For a copper penny;
And I’ll gladly sing my song again
If your horse should whinny!

2. The Piper and His con
There was a piper had a cow,
And he had nothing to give her;
He pulled out his pipes and played her a tune,
And asked the cow to consider.

The cow considered very well,
And gave the piper some money,
And asked him to play another tune,
That she would find quite funny.

3. Shave a Pig
Barber, barber, shave a pig,
How many hairs will make a wig?
Four-and-twenty, that’s enough.
Give the barber a pinch of snuff.

4. There Was a Little Pig
There was a little pig,
Who wasn’t very big,
So they put him in a great big show.
While playing in the band,
He broke his little hand,
And now he can’t play his old banjo.

5. The Donkey
Donkey, donkey, old and gray,
Open your mouth and gently bray;
Lift your ears and blow your horn,
To wake the world this sleepy morn.

6. Bell Horses
Bell horses, bell horses,
What time of day?
One o’clock, two o’clock,
Three and away.

7. Robert Barnes
Robert Barnes, fellow fine,
Can you shoe this horse of mine?
Yes, good sir, that I can,
As well as any other man.
There’s a nail, and there’s a prod,
And now, good sir, your horse is shod.

8. A Horse and a Flea
A horse and a flea and three blind mice
Met each other while skating on ice.
The horse he slipped and fell on the flea.
The flea said, “Oops, there’s a horse on me!”

9. Old MacDonald
Old MacDonald had a form, E-I-E-I-O.
And on this form he had some cows, E-I-E-I-O.

With a moo-moo here and a moo-moo there,
Here a moo, there a moo, everywhere a moo-moo.

Old MacDonald had a form, E-I-E-I-O.
And on this form he had some donkeys, E-I-E-I-O.

With a hee-haw here and a hee-haw there,
Here a hee, there a haw, everywhere a hee-haw.

Old MacDonald had a form, E-I-E-I-O.
And on this farm he had some pigs, E-I-E-I-O.

With an oink-oink here and an oink-oink there,
Here an oink, there an oink, everywhere an oink-oink.

Old MacDonald had a form, E-I-E-I-O.
And on this farm he had some ducks, E-I-E-I-O.

With a quack-quack here and a quack-quack there,
Here a quack, there a quack, everywhere a quack-quack.
Old MacDonald had a form, E-I-E-I-O.

10. Dickery, Dickery, Dare
Dickery, dickery, dare,
The pig flew up in the air;
The man in brown soon brought him down,
Dickery, dickery, dare.

11. Charlie Warlie
Charlie Warlie had a cow,
Black and white around the brow;
Open the gate and let her in,
Charlie’s cow is home again.

12. The Boy in the Barn
A little boy went into a barn,
And lay down on some hay.
An owl came out and flew about,
And the little boy ran away.

13. Upon My Word
Upon my word and honor
As I went to Banner,
I met a pig
Without the wig,
Upon my word and honor.

14. The Little Mouse
I have seen you, little mouse,
Running all about the house,
Through the hole your little eye
In the wainscot peeping sly,
Hoping soon some crumbs to steal,
To make quite a hearty meal.
Look before you venture out,
See if kitty is about.

15. Mary Had a Little Lamb
Mary had a little lamb,
Its fleece was white as snow.
And everywhere that Mary went
The lamb was sure to go.

16. My Maid Mary
My maid Mary,
She minds the dairy,
While I go a-hoeing
And mowing, each morn.
Gaily runs the reel
And the spinning wheel,
While I am singing
And mowing my corn.

17. Cushy Cow
Cushy cow bonny, let down your milk,
And I will give you a gown of silk.
A gown of silk and silver tee,
If you will let down your milk to me.

18. Cock-a-Doodle-doo
Cock-a-doodle-doo,
My dame has lost her shoe,
And master’s lost his fiddling stick,
Sing doodle-doodle-doo.

19. Baa, Baa, Black Sheep
Baa, baa, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir,
Three bags full:
One for the master,
One for the dame,
And one for the little boy
Who lives down the lane.

20. A Dozen Eggs
I bought a dozen new-laid eggs
From good old Farmer Dickens.
I hobbled home upon two legs
And found them full of chickens.

21. Thee blind Mice
Three blind mice, three blind mice;
See how they run, see how they run!
They all ran after the farmer’s wife,
Who cut their tails with a carving knife.
Have you ever seen such a sight
In your life as three blind mice?

22. Young Lambs
If I’d as much money as I could tell,
I never would cry young lambs to sell.
Young lambs to sell, young lambs to sell,
I never would cry young lambs to sell.

23. The Learned Pig
My learned friend and neighbor pig,
Odds bobs and bills, and dash my wig!
It’s said that you the weather know.
Please tell me when the wind will blow.

24. Harvesting
The boughs do shake
And the bells do ring,
So merrily comes our harvesting in,
Our harvesting in, our harvesting in,
So merrily comes our harvesting in.

We’ve plowed, we’ve sowed,
We’ve reaped, we’ve mowed,
We’ve got our harvesting in!

25. The purple cow
I never saw a purple cow,
A hope I never see one;
But I can tell you, anyhow,
I’d rather see than be one.

---

Gabbriela & www.babiesonline.com/babies/j/julianleonardo/" target="_blank">Julian
0 - 2 years 2 - 3 years
Opere de arte

Gabbriela spune:

26.05.2002--- Lucia Valentina --- roxanak
La Multi Ani Lucia, sa cresti mare, sanatoasa si sa ai o viata plina de bucuri si impliniri.

sanzi_ana & crig am vazut pozele din mini-vacanta, mi-au placut mult, aveti doi copii superbi. Am mai vauzt si poze cu David scump cu plasture in frunde de la serbare, sper sa ii treaca repede si sa nu ii ramana semn urat.

Uite cum sa desenati masini cu pitici vostrii:
http://www.drawbooks.com/123_draw_series/44.htm#lessons

De pe:
http://www.drawbooks.com/123_draw_series/
Gasiti mai multe modele de desene.
Sa imi ziciti dacava placut...
Bye!

---

Gabbriela & www.babiesonline.com/babies/j/julianleonardo/" target="_blank">Julian
0 - 2 years 2 - 3 years
Opere de arte

HelleneC spune:

Buna fetelor!
George al meu e iar acasa pana luni de data asta, si e vesel. Tocmai ne-am tuns in seara asta, prima data la "doamna" din coltz, si spre uimirea noastra a fost vesel, a ascultat ce i-a zis doamna, totul a decurs intr-un cantec si o veselie (doamna i-a cantat si i-a zis poezii mereu) - am zis ca e profesionista sa se specializeze pe pici de 2-3 ani! Culmea e ca acolo, stand in asteptare, s-a asezat singurel pe scaun cu mainile la spate, ca la gradi! Tare ii place sa mearga, dar inca sta putin, cate o ora, si si-a facut prieteni! Toti din grupa il adora si se ocupa de el, pentru ca e cel mai mic!
Gabb, multumim pentru povesti, cantecele si linkuri, sunt super-utile
Sanzi, Mik, ati rezistat super la episoadele prin care ati trecut, vorba Luciei, mi se inmuiau picioarele. Am trecut greu prin operatia lui George care a fost cu anestezie generala, dar sa il vad fara... de aia va spun ca sunteti tari! Si cred ca de asa caractere au nevoie puii nostri, nu? (toate suntem cand ajungem in situatii limita, cred) Sanatate la pui!
Cristina, e drept ca la varsta lor e nevoie de supervizarea noastra, mai ales la imparitul jucariilor! Altfel ce ar iesi... nu ma gandesc
Majoritatea vad ca aveti serbari, va pregatiti de ce este mai frumos... am emotii cand ma gandesca ca am deja ciopil mare, care va merge la camin, va avea program, va avea serbari. Unde e puiul acela mic si care avea nevoie permanenta de mine? Trece timpul fantastic de repede!
va pup pe toate si toti si numai bine, Elena si George

Mami ”de George”
www.desprecopii.com/forum/topic.asp?TOPIC_ID=36561" target="_blank">Povestea_nasterii
www.babiesonline.com/babies/g/GeorgeC/" target="_blank">Poze

sinzi_ana spune:

Elena, ma apuca iar nostalgia de gradinita...vorbeam cu o prietena ca al ei pusti nu are vacanta de vara decat o luna de la gradinita...si chiar ca as fi vrut si eu sa nu se termine gradinita asa repede. Ii placea si lui DAvid si mie...si invata multe...
Acum asteptam la toamna...
Dar cred ca am sa il iau cu mine, cel putin si la serbarea alor mei!!!

". A man should treat all creatures in the world as he himself would like to be treated.
Janism"


Sinzi si David
Poze de la prima noastra serbare si excursia din Timisoara

light spune:

Gabbriela si noi iti mulumim. Liviu a fost tare incantat de masinile vazute si o sa il invat sa deseneze ca acolo. Daca i-ar placea sa le si coloreze ar fi si mai frumos. Dar incet incet ajungem noi si la colorat. Sanzi am vazut si eu pozele cu David la serbare, si el ca si Liviu, tot timpul serios. Acum poate e si un pic suparat de buba de la frunte.Am vazut acolo la gradinita, intr-o poza, ca un sevalet de plastic sau nu stiu cum sa ii zic, ceva cu albastru ca o tabla mare sprijinita pe niste suporti pe care se pun hartiile de desen. Oare gasesc pe la magazine asa ceva, ca pana acum nu am mai vazut?A si referitor la copilasul de 4 ani, din punctul meu de vedere, a citi cursiv in propria limba la aceasta varsta mi se pare genial iar a citi cursiv si in alta limba pe langa cea materna deja nu cred ca se mai poate comenta, daca ar exista mai mult decat genial ca grad de comparatie asta as spune.mama Lucia si Liviu minunea (24.05.2002) www.desprecopii.com/forum/topic.asp?TOPIC_ID=41618" target="_blank">Povestea-nasterii Liviu de ziua lui

sinzi_ana spune:

Lucia, cred ca poti gasi tablite ca acelea, numai ca sunt ff scumpe. Eu am vazut in Timisoara asa ceva la vreo 2 milioane si mi s-a parut cam scump pentru o tablita gen sevalet...mai bine ii cumperi una pt adulti de lemn...

". A man should treat all creatures in the world as he himself would like to be treated.
Janism"


Sinzi si David
Poze de la prima noastra serbare si excursia din Timisoara

corina iulia spune:

Gabriela, super fine site-urile date de tine. multumim.
vin si eu cu doua propuneri pt desenat:

corina, am scos link-urile ca lateau pagina foarte tare. oana_b



am desenat si noi cu voie buna cateva animalute si vom incerca si din masinutele date de Gabbriela

si noi suntem "cheliuta" dupa ce de doua zile ne-am tuns si noi si puiul meu a fost cumintel si nu a facut prea mare zgomot dar tare nu i-a placut ca i-a cazut parul taiat pe fata si-am fost suparati .
va invidiez, sincer, pe cele care v-ati dus pui la gradi. si noi ne dorim mult, dar cred ca doar din toamna! mai avem de asteptat.


------------------------
Am invatat ca succesul se masoara nu atat prin pozitia pe care cineva a castigat-o in viata cat prin obstacolele pe care el le-a depasit incercand sa invinga.
Booker T. Washington
cu drag de forum, corina si lutzu si sotul meu

corina iulia spune:

am inteles ca nu s-au deschis linkurile date. imi pare rau. am sa repar greseala. am si verificat daca se deschid sau nu, e ok
www.thelittleartist.com/coloring.html" target="_blank"> litere si cifre coborati putin mai jos si alegeti cifrele sau literele dorite

www.nationalgeographic.com/coloringbook/archive/" target="_blank"> national geografic- animalute aici doar dati click pe animalul dorit si printati

www.bbc.co.uk/cbeebies/printables/printcolour/bobthebuilder/" target="_blank"> bbc.uk pagini de colorat si aici trebuie sa alegeti.

sper sa fie ok acum.

sper sa va placa


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Am invatat ca succesul se masoara nu atat prin pozitia pe care cineva a castigat-o in viata cat prin obstacolele pe care el le-a depasit incercand sa invinga.
Booker T. Washington
cu drag de forum, corina si lutzu si sotul meu

sinzi_ana spune:

Lui DAvid i-a aparut pe manutza o pata rosie aspra la pipait cu un muntisor...adica o umflatura...ce sa fie??? maine e duminica nu ajung la pediatru, cu ce as putea sa ii dau?

". A man should treat all creatures in the world as he himself would like to be treated.
Janism"


Sinzi si David
Poze de la prima noastra serbare si excursia din Timisoara