Chocolate addict

Once upon a time there was a sweet but slightly wicked Cavoodle named Blossom. She lived with her family on the lower North Shore of Sydney in Australia.

Blossom loved her life. Her family adored her and they all enjoyed daily sunrise walks around the harbour’s edge. Her humans snorted with laughter as she chased seagulls and other marine birds, never catching them, but enjoying the chase and Blossom delighted in knowing that she was making her family happy. Tracking rabbits in the nearby bush was another favourite game.

A girl and her pup…

Her family was kind and fed and watered her well, often throwing in a delicious bone to gnaw on. Blossom would eat the bone outside, rolling it over and over in the soil and then carefully carry it upstairs to bury it in her human Mum’s bed. She could never quite understand why her mother didn’t seem to appreciate the gift.

Now, as it happens, Blossom is not perfect. She has a dark secret. You see she is a chocolate thief and a prodigious one at that. If it’s about, she will find it. The human children of her family had long ago learned to put chocolate up high, in places way out of reach of a wily pooch. Yet still, chocolate managed to disappear regularly. Her humans tried to explain that chocolate was very poisonous to dogs but Blossom’s addiction was such that she ignored all the dangers, sticking her paws in her ears, wandering around the house yelling loudly “lah, lah, lah, lah” if anyone dared tried to detail the inevitable, very messy, consequence of eating it.

And so we come to the theft of approximately 200g of Allen’s Freckles and why four officers from North Sydney police station turned up at our door at 2.00am last night.

Such deliciousness (iluvlollies.com.au)

Earlier that evening Blossom had been sprung red-pawed with her snout in a bowl of Freckles which had somehow been left on a table. She’d managed to jump about a metre off the ground onto the table and had demolished the lot. She was subsequently banned to the only part of the house that had timber flooring and the family waited. And waited. Half an hour later the first vomit came. Then another and another until there were 6 delightful deposits left for her human father to clean up. Thankfully Blossom had the good sense to vacate to the back garden just in time for some fairly violent explosions from the other end.

Bedtime came and Blossom, much to her horror was left locked downstairs. Time passed and nothing. Then at about 1.30am I was woken to hear a distant thump and the very obvious sound of Blossom trying to break through the back door.

Cue the neighbours (you couldn’t wish for better ones). They too had been woken by they noise (and unable to raise me on the phone) had called the police to report a suspected break in. Ten minutes later four burly coppers knocked on the front door. I almost died with fright, thinking the worst. Someone had died, there were madmen about, a gas leak with a pending explosion. You name it, a bazillion horrid scenarios all raced through my mind.

Of course there was no one breaking in. I couldn’t bring myself to confess to what I knew had most likely caused the disturbance. As I chatted to the police and assured them that nothing was awry, my wicked chocolate thief wound her way coquettishly between the policemen, licking their legs, asking to be patted. As the saying goes, butter literally wouldn’t have melted in her mouth but God the chocolate had!

End of story. Chocolate is now kept in the fridge and Blossom won’t be getting any treats for a month.

What quirky things have happened in your home lately?

Until next time…

May I cheekily suggest my new book would make a great Christmas present?  You can purchase it via the link in my sidebar above, or at all good bookstores and online. For interview opportunities please contact Jackie Evans on 0407 776 222 or jep.pub@bigpond.net.au

This morning sitting at the breakfast table, we watched with surprise as a sleek and very bold red fox trotted along our fence line, past the kitchen window and up the hill towards the gate. Two fluffy designer dogs were despatched outdoors to try and catch the wily intruder ~ like that was ever going to happen. Nonetheless and almost self-combusting with excitement, they flew up the garden and disappeared behind our stand of pine trees in hot pursuit of Foxy Loxy. Three young children followed closely behind, barefoot in PJ’s, toast still in their mouths. From that moment the children spent the day investigating all things Vulpine. It has been a delight watching their creativity and imaginative play and has again reminded me that if a scene is set for a child (whether spontaneous or planned) and they have a few props to hand, they can easily (and willingly) entertain themselves for hours.

Collecting items

First they went hunting for more evidence of Franky (yes, that was the name he was given). They found a tooth and some poo. I will spare you a photograph of these. My daughter intends to string the tooth around her neck.  They then returned indoors and after googling fox poo, they determined (apparently from the size and scent) that Franky is actually Francine. You didn’t know that male and female fox poo is different did you? No, nor did I. This is because it fell, until today, into the category of entirely useless information. What fascinated me is how the kids used technology to assist, inform and ENHANCE their unstructured play outside.

The Den

They returned outdoors to build a den for the fox in anticipation of return visits.  They worked hard at this all day.  They dug up soil, collected wood, feathers and twigs.  They even cooked a steak as a lure for Francine. They made her a bed of soft green grass to snuggle up in. One child chose to make an iPad video of their experiences. Another returned inside momentarily to write down her observations using a laptop. They seamlessly combined their outdoor time with indoor moments, all the time enhancing it with the use of technology. The last child took endless photos of the den, the tools and the found materials they used to construct it. I’m sure they are now on an Instagram feed somewhere.

Carting the logs took hours

After dinner, we searched for and compiled a list of all the movies, books and songs we could think of that featured foxes. They are listed below. The kids then collapsed into bed full of plans to head outdoors tomorrow to build on their experience. I am sure technology will again play a big part in this. And this is OK because imagination will still be the champion of the day.

Evidence

As adults, it is natural to worry about how much screen time our children are exposed to. There is much evidence on the negative effects of its overuse. We find it unsettling because it formed such a minuscule part of our own childhoods. However technology and the digital world will not go away, no matter whether we as adults use, dislike, understand, resist or embrace it.  It is an integral part of the current landscape of childhood just like a Malvern Star bicycle was to mine.  This is how our children communicate, express and identify themselves. We must be a part of it.

Trying to extricate or dissuade our children from using technology by citing our own childhood experiences as an example of living a more enriched life is unhelpful to say the least and at worst could lead to an emotional disconnect between parent and child. Sure, we need to set boundaries for its use, but we fail our children if we are not prepared to accept their world ~ their reality. As mentioned above, by 2020 there will be 7 times more connected devices than there are people on the planet and as yet we don’t even know what form some of these devices will take. So rather than moan about or resist this, I suggest adults must change their thinking on how to approach technology + children. Our kids will be the ones responsible for managing this new world so we need to help guide them effectively through its development and their ongoing use of it. How can we do this without first understanding it ourselves?

** sourced image

Chastising them for doing what is quickly becoming fundamentally innate to them is counterintuitive. We must embrace technology; do everything we can to understand it and use it alongside our children. Only then can we use it as a handy tool to encourage a healthy connection with their real world. Further, I’m of the belief that only by doing this can I act as an informed mediator and have them understand the value of readily switching off.  Then, together, my kids and I can enjoy their ride through childhood, both with and without a screen.

Although if my witnessing of today’s events is anything to go by, kids are perfectly capable of self-regulation given the opportunity, a spark of imagination and a sleek red fox.

If you don’t have a fox to hand, why not have your kids try some of these activities?

• Choose a colour.  Suggest to your child they need to find 5 things outside that are of that colour. Ask them to use their devices to find further images of the chosen colour.  Print them out and create a collage using their printed and real objects. Get them to google how the colour is spoken in 5 languages. Now head to the kitchen and a devise a meal using ingredients primarily of that colour.
• Hunt for a dragon.  Ahead of time, using a few props such as pebbles or a bit of glitter sprinkled around the garden, tell them you’ve a feeling a dragon is nearby. Encourage them to go looking for this mythical creature.  Ask them to take photos of any evidence they come across.  Get them to draw the dragon of their imaginations.  Ask them what they think dragons eat.  If this is something that could, just could be in your fridge, together make it for dinner.
• Together, go for a walk and find 5 pebbles of varying shapes and sizes. Come back home and decorate them. Google how pebbles are formed. Give each one a name.  Make a bed for them using an old egg carton.
• Search for feathers of varying colours.  Come home and make a collage or a mini headdress.  Using google, try and discover which birds they might belong to.  On a piece of paper, draw as exactly as you can the feathers you see before you. If you know which birds the feather belong to, search for a recording of the sounds they make.

Our go-to list of all things Vulpine:

The Fox and the Hound

Fantastic Mr Fox

What does the fox say? 

The Three Foxes

The Fox and The Crow

Fox in Socks

The Fox and the Child (such a beautiful film)

Robin Hood (Disney animated version)

Swiper no Swiping! (Dora the Explorer)

The adventures of Pinocchio (a fox and a cat try to dupe Pinocchio)

Richard Scarry’s Fixit Fox

The Animals of Farthing Wood

Foxy Loxy of Chicken Little

Franky Furbo (by William Wharton. A brilliant book for adults)

And for your listening pleasure, Jimmi Hendrix Foxy Lady

As always we’d love your views and comments…

Until next time…

* PWC 2014 CEO Trend report

**Image found on the great little website sheknows.com.au

For those of you who’d like some more general information on WilderQuest, you can read my original post below.

When I was little, I wanted to be a Pirate, a Park Ranger or a Strapper. A pirate? Well, I fancied sailing the high seas, digging for treasure and teaching a parrot to talk.  Park Ranger? I had visions of exploring the diversity of Australia’s flora and fauna. I wanted to travel from one end of my vast land to the other in an enormous caravan painted in bright happy colours and discover a new species of kangaroo or find a new flower that would, of course, be named after me. I would become known as a nomadic Pippi Longstocking. I’d drive the caravan, eat nothing but baked beans and cornflakes and go to bed whenever I wanted. My Bassett Hound Simon would be my faithful companion. Oh, the adventures we would have! Strapper? This ambition quickly evaporated when I discovered you had to be at work at 3.00am each morning.

None of these ‘careers’ came to pass but I still have an abiding love of outdoors and our Great Southern Land and have tried to instil the same passion in my two children. And now I’ve discovered a way technology can help me (and them). During their screen time, rather than having their heads stuck down, eyes glued to iPads, mindlessly playing Minecraft, Farmville, Moshi Monsters, Tapped Out or Angry Birds, I’ve introduced them to WilderQuest. It’s free, safe, engaging, educational and best of all; my children appear to love it.

NSW National Parks and Wildlife Service developed WilderQuest a little over a year ago.  It has gone on to win a swag of educational and environmental awards and I can see why.

It provides all of the functions kids like in game websites, such as the ability to create their own avatar, decorate their own “space” ~ in this case a treetop cubby.  They can select an online companion from a variety of cute Australian animals. There are a good number of games they can play, which ensures boredom doesn’t set in.  Kids are awarded points for “winning” games and can collect badges or aim to top the leader board.

But what I really like about this initiative is that it is teaching children by default, about the flora and fauna of Australia, along with the diversity of our climatic zones and ecosystems. It also encourages respect for the environment and how they can more easily engage with the environment via their own back garden, playground and National Park. You can visit the rainforests, beaches and mangroves, woodlands and scrublands, the inland deserts or our alpine regions. The images are real but have a slightly animated feel, which always appeals to children.  It is encouraging in tone and never preachy (which is important).  Rather, it is simple and inspiring.  It is graphically rich with funky audio and quirky animation, which ensures it keeps kids engaged.  Only thing I’d change?  I’d give Ranger Sam a kid’s voice.

Aimed at children 6-12, I think it could well appeal to slightly older children as well.  And don’t think it’s only for Aussie kids.  Children worldwide will get a kick out of visiting this website, playing its games and subsequently, hopefully putting Australia on their must-visit list.

Whilst technology devised to encourage children to connect with nature should never replace the real thing, I would happily let my children play this during their screen time.  So pop over to WilderQuest and take a look. You can also find it on iTunes here. They also have a facebook page, which you can find here.  You may well find that you get hooked, just like I have.

Until next time.

Van image found on www.camptrip.com ~ with thanks.

A couple of days ago, we heard the most wonderful sound and just had to record it.  So, here’s your chance to have a go at guessing what it is by clicking on the link below.  First correct answer wins a copy of my book “Small Fry Outdoors” (offer open worldwide).  Good luck!

One clue. I am at the farm, it is mid-spring and the grass is lush. Oh and the photo, whilst pretty, bears little relation to the noise.

Mystery Sound!

Later that day we collected two slightly bewildered and shivering dogs.  The haircut was simple, effective and all that was required.  However, one child, who shall remain nameless, decided the dogs needed a little extra snipping and took matters into his her own hands.  Said child explained that she had gone for this particular style as she loved the Truffala trees in The Lorax and wanted to recreate the look. Huh?  Really?  “Congratulations on your beautiful imagination and creativity my child, but next time, let’s try it out on paper rather than our pets.”  Between you and me, I think she did a wonderful job channelling Dr Seuss, although I fear we will have to book the dogs into therapy as a result.  What do you think?

And, as you know I’m always one to encourage responsible risk-taking, but I’ll think twice next time I let a 9 year old loose with a pair of scissors and a look of wily determination.

Until next time…

The perfect canine Truffala tree

From this....

To this.....

"Maybe I can chew it off".

This set me to thinking about the educational experiences children deserve. So I compiled a list of the 100 things I believe children* should experience before they depart childhood.  They are in no particular order and it is impossible for the list to be finite. Many of the experiences should definitely be carried through into adulthood.

1. Give or receive a hug every day
2. Climb a tree
3. Fall out of a tree
4. Catch a fish
5. Swim with fish
6. Do something kind with no expectation of recognition or reward
7. Start a found collection
8. Keep a journal
9. Boil an egg and eat it before the age of 10
10. Drink out of a hose, preferably wearing nothing other than a pair of knickers
11. Eat some soil
12. Walk a dog
13. Create something with sticks, cardboard and sticky tape
14. Lie on the ground and watch the clouds or just enjoy the feeling of the earth under your body
15. Be thrilled during a thunderstorm
16. Catch rain on their tongue
17. Experience triumph
18. Blow a bubble gum bubble as big as their head
19. Make jelly
20. Visit a zoo
21. Do nothing
22. Be pushed in a swing
23. Learn how to swing themselves
24. Pick flowers
25. Require a bandaid once a month
26. Experience failure
27. Watch a spider in its web
28. Complete a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle
29. Experience boredom. Regularly.  It promotes creativity.
30. Form a special attachment with someone at least 50 years older than themselves
31. Spend 3 consecutive days in their pyjamas
32. Watch a really scary movie without parental guidance
33. Pop a pimple
34. Ride a bike
35. Play with snow
36. Get sun-kissed
37. Bite their fingernails and regret it
38. Be bewildered but secretly thrilled by their first wet dream
39. Experience disappointment
40. Listen to a thrush sing
41. Make a cake from scratch
42. Enjoy the discovery that their parents are people, not just their carers
43. Hate their first period (but be relaxed about the commencement of their journey into womanhood)
44. Watch several sunrises
45. Go bird watching
46. Wonder at a full moon
47. Walk barefoot on wet grass
48. Step on a prickle
49. Do nothing
50. Take public transport somewhere by themselves before the age of 12
51. Walk to school
52. Wonder at a butterfly
53. Kiss their first true love
54. Mow a lawn
55. Fart with relish and not confess
56. Take a photo of something cherished and turn it into an artwork
57. Confound their parent with something related to technology
58. Unplug
59. Understand the value of unstructured play
60. Use the cardboard box, rather than its contents to create a masterpiece
61. Love and laugh often
62. Climb a hill and enjoy the view
63. Ride a horse bareback
64. Grow their own vegetables and herbs
65. Show compassion
66. Write a letter to someone using pen and paper
67. Build a cubby house
68. Find a secret hiding place and decorate it
69. Sing and shout out loud
70. Play an instrument.  Whether this is done well or badly is irrelevant
71. Chase a rainbow
72. Relish creativity
73. Swim in a river
74. Make their own book
75. Get dirty and stay that way all day
76. Try various cuisines from around the world
77. Perfect handstands and cartwheels
78. Make mud pies
79. Do nothing
80. Jump off a jetty
81. Go ice-skating
82. Do a self-portrait
83. Blow bubbles
84. Paint with a hose
85. Score (or save) a goal at some form of sport
86. Go to a church service of their choice
87. Toast marshmallows
88. Experience the fallibility of their parents
89. Blow a raspberry
90. Go camping
91. Make a family tree
92. Learn how to count to 10 in 10 different languages
93. Hold a snake
94. Blow an egg
95. Paint with their fingers
96. Pick their nose, eat it and decide that doing so is daft
97. Have (and keep into adulthood) a favourite toy
98. Keep a pet
99. Read books
100. Do nothing

The brilliant Sir Ken Robinson is far more eloquent than me on the importance of fostering spontaneity and creativity.  You can listen to his thoughts here.

What would you add to this list?

Until next time….

For more recipes, tips, advice and ideas on how to find wonder in all you do, look out for my book “Caro & Co ~ Helping Kids find Wonder in the Everyday”, published by Sally Milner Publishing. Available from 01 December at all good bookstores and online. For interview opportunities please contact Jackie Evans on 0407 776 222 or jep.pub@bigpond.net.au

* For the purposes of this post, I’ve defined childhood as 0-16.

This originally appeared on Caro & Co a couple of years back but it’s as relevant as ever!

Today would have been my father’s 81st birthday.  Not a day goes by that the memory of him and my deep love for him fails to touch me in someway.  So please excuse me if I share this with you again.  Love you Papa Bill.

Sometimes something so utterly lovely flings itself upon your heart, that you forget (and don’t care) that you might bore everyone rigid and so instantly pick up your pen…

Just on two years ago, my father died. He had been ill for around 7 years, so, whilst I was desperately sad at the thought of no longer being able to talk to, or touch him, my overwhelming emotion was one of relief. I’m certain death was also a relief for him. We all knew that his body had reached the point where total failure was near, and whilst we could make him comfortable, death was inevitable. We offered him our love, constant touch and our tears but no-one resiled from what was approaching, least of all him. When the time was right, he needed to stop breathing. He needed to ‘go’. (In conversation, neither he or I were entirely sure where that ‘going’ would take him, but he was unconcerned, and bless him, tried to convince me not to be afraid for him). He died with surprising ease and calm. If death can be lovely, his was. Some may consider it odd, but I enjoyed holding him after his death. He was peaceful; not bound up, with laboured breathing and a pinched look on his face.

The most fascinating aspect of my father’s death is that it involved two animals. This is interesting only insomuch as he was not at all fond of animals. He accepted that they would always be a part of his life (he married an animal lover), but he only ever tolerated pets. He never really engaged with them, until a slightly overweight King Charles Cavalier Spaniel named Charlie entered his life.

But hold on. Before I tell you about Charlie, I need to talk (just a little) about Molly. Molly was my first dog. She was my first “child”. That looks completely daft when written. When spoken it sounds vaguely acceptable, so try to imagine my voice. She and I were inseparable, even after the birth (and obvious adoration) of my two human children. After their arrival, Molly recognized her inevitable slide in the family pack, but was also wily enough to know that all she need do was crook her head “just so” and I’d melt and let her hop back up onto my bed at night.

5 days before my father died, Molly choked on a bone in the back garden and died.

My children found her by literally tripping over her while playing hide ‘n seek. They came flying to me, screaming “Molly’s dead Mama, Molly’s dead.” And yes she was. Bloody foolish gutso. In her greed, a large bone had gone down whole; the wrong way. There was nothing I could do. I tried kitchen tongs, the Heimlich manoeuvre, violent massage, you name it. Ultimately, what distressed me most about her death is that my children, for the first time, saw me completely undone. I sat for a long time clutching her, rocking back and forth on my knees, my tears splashing onto her fur, while making odd uncontrollable guttural sounds . For someone who shows control at all times, this was a very naked moment. It still makes me feel inexorably sad. It was so unexpected. Horrid, just horrid. Although, I’ve come to think that her death prepared me and my children for the death of my father.

So there we are. Two deaths in under a week. One expected, the other not. The family swung together and made ‘arrangements’. Molly ended up under a lovely hydrangea and a sandstone plinth in the front garden. That was easy. Arranging Dad’s funeral was pretty easy; after all, we’d all talked about what form it would take for some time. The trickiest task was phoning the Priest at the Church in which Dad’s funeral service was to be held to ask, if for the first time ever, an unleashed dog could lead the casket into and out of the church. And so we come to Charlie.

Charlie is a rotund Cavalier Spaniel who lived up the road from my parents. He used to visit every other day, begging for tidbits from my mother’s always overflowing fridge. His owners gave up trying to stop him visiting and he very quickly became a part of our family. Over the years, as my father became seriously ill, Charlie also gave up asking for what might come out of the fridge and instead hopped up onto Dad’s bed and gently laid his head beside my father’s. At first, Dad would feign horror and kick him off. But Charlie persisted and slowly, Dad relented. On the day of his death, Charlie was firmly ensconced by my father’s side which gave both of them great comfort. After Dad had gone, Charlie hopped into my father’s favourite chair and didn’t move for several days.

On the day of my father’s funeral, Charlie was allowed to lead all of us, ahead of Dad’s casket up the aisle of the church. He sat, head cocked and listened to the service. On leaving, he walked slowly, head low, down the aisle and guided Dad away. It was a very special moment.

And then Charlie disappeared. Vanished. Gone. Mum found this incredibly difficult. We all presumed Charlie had fallen ill, walked into the nearby bush and curled up to die. Mum and Charlie’s original owner posted a $500 reward for anyone who could locate him. Nothing. So, again, we suffered an unexpected, but this time, unexplained death in our family. And again, horrid, just horrid..

And so we come to today, two years on from Dad’s death. This afternoon my mother phoned me in tears to say that Charlie has been found. On Christmas Eve he apparently wandered into the garage of a woman in Liverpool and sat there. She gave him something to eat and next day phoned the local vet. The vet, despite enjoying the last of his Christmas pudding, scanned a slightly dirty little King Charles Cavalier, to discover that his true owner was some 30 kilometres away. Who knows how he ended up there or how he has survived all this time. And quite frankly I couldn’t give a flying fig on the detail. What I do know is that we have all unexpectedly regained a part of our lives that will serve daily to remind us of a father that we still miss very much. A truly special Christmas present.

The great outdoors …. sometimes the thought of allowing your child to run free outside can be a daunting prospect.  There are so many variables; so many places of potential injury.  Every stick, person, situation, insect, flower can appear to be lurking, waiting to stab, sting, abduct or poison.  And sometimes, it will simply not appeal to either of you, or finding time in the day may seem impossible.

However, outdoors is a place of wonder for children and a vital tool in helping them make sense of themselves and their environment.  By providing unstructured outdoor time, we assist them to develop confidence, a sense of spirit, independence, resilience and creativity.

My children and I live in a country that is home to some of the most poisonous creatures in the world.  And whilst I adore Australia, I do intensely dislike the deadly creature thing.  Quite frankly the thought of all those toxic critters lurking nearby makes me resentful and fearful for my children and our incredibly daft designer dogs.

Take our farm for example.  It is an average agricultural holding of 250 acres on the southern tablelands, around 300k south-west of Sydney (180k as the crow flies).  When we visit, I am very aware of the number of things that could potentially kill, injure or maim my children.  Brown snakes, black snakes, redback spiders, the occasional funnel-web spider, cocktail scorpions, wasps, earwigs, bees, bull ants, cranky cows, quad bikes, flooded creeks, dams, Rams the size of a small country – you name it – we’ve got ’em all. However, as a child, I didn’t give them a second thought.  I ran barefoot everywhere (and still do).  I fell off horses after they shied from snakes and simply jumped back on and kept going (three times with a broken arm).  I always asked my mother to shake out boots before putting them on.  If something bit me, I scratched the bite and forgot about it. I learnt to yell loudly and fiercely at both cows and sheep.  Being scared of critters was simply not on my radar.

I realise that I have my mother to thank for this.  She taught me to be aware but not fearful.  “Always look down when you walk through the bush.  Stop if you see something and back slowly away.  They are more frightened of you than you are of them”, and so on.  Now, as a mother to two children, I am determined to make sure that they have a similar carefree childhood. So, instead of dwelling on what might be, I follow the advice of my beautiful, wise mother.  My children are aware, but not fearful.  They have understood since they were tiny about the concept of responsible risk.  Joyfully, they have learned to co-exist with “the nasties” (as they call them) and just get on with free fall play outdoors.  

I delight in watching them spin a heavy dose of imagination into their time outside.  After all, outdoors is a place where a child’s  imagination can truly roam free.  There are wild things hiding; it’s home to fairies, pixies and the occasional troll.  There is no room for fear in this world.  It’s a place of high adventure, where they can get down and dirty with bug catcher and magnifying glass in hand.  They can become conquering explorers, artists, amateur botanists, pirates, fairies or Robin Hood all in the blink of an eye.  And what’s more, all the required costumes can be found in-situ.

So I encourage you to celebrate outdoors with your children whenever you can.  Splash through puddles, pick some blossoms or colourful leaves, help find fairies, hunt for a spider in its web, lie under a tree and daydream, hunt for weeds and other garden pests, plant a sunflower, ride a tandem bike, visit a Botanic Garden or just do nothing together.  Whatever outdoors means to you and your child, you can find something together that will delight you both.

Until next time….