Laminate the cards. Provide dry erase markers for the children to practice printing their names and their friends' names. Point out that some friends have some of the same letters in their name as you have in yours! EXTENSION: We use these cards for EVERYTHING! If choosing a spot at circ...
9 RegisterLog in Sign up with one click: Facebook Twitter Google Share on Facebook IPLO (redirected fromIrish People's Liberation Organisation) Wikipedia AcronymDefinition IPLOInternational Police Liaison Officer IPLOIntellectual Property Law Offices(San Jose, CA) ...
Cars are so expensive but most people need one! Some useful programs to get people in need connected with reliable vehicles
It did not. The black cross is accidental, something I’m always explaining. It reminds me of the God’s eyes we used to make in elementary school. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s one in the things my mother returned to me — old report cards, yearbooks, etc. — some years a...
How different from those years when we would exchange cards, softly kiss and promise another year together, when we would dress up and go to a fancy restaurant, feeding each other bites of lobster and chocolate cake, so in love it was disgusting. One anniversary he picked me up at work ...
We hates us some poor people. First, they insist on being poor when it is so easy to not be poor. They do things like buy expensive designer belts and $2500 luxury handbags. To be fair, this isn't about Eroll Louis. His is a belief held by many people, i
“That’s lucky. Is there a pattern?” I sighed. “Four women, a guy, and a kid.” “Yeah, kids are unpredictable, and they’re loud and fast. But it’s not just kids with your dog.” Joe patted his thigh, and Cody approached slowly. But when Joe reached toward the dog, Cody...
relentless. The summer suddenly feels unpredictable, scary, dangerous. I take Frank to physical therapy and to get an epidural shot. I write sympathy cards, bring a bag of bagels to one family, bowls of cold summer soup to another. I feel disoriented, suffocated, blinded by all the sadness...
“Sorry, no cash! You should swipe debit cards!” fortyish moms would call out to us as they rushed their cart to their crossover vehicle, acknowledging us over their shoulders. My son would look at me skeptically and I’d shrug. I could equally believe or disbelieve each one of those...
As I drive through the suburban streets toward a nearby Starbucks, my thoughts begin to work their way from the cards on the passenger seat next to me to the upcoming anniversary of my own birth. I will soon turn thirty-three. It may not be one of the traditionally important birthdays ...