Blame it all on Papa Pidgeon

Bubbles are like circles and they pop very soon.
Some bubbles stay longer. Bubbles touch ceiling and die.
Soap and water make bubbles.


Scientists or poets, these children?


Week before last we made bubbles almost every day, and recorded the kids' hiaku-like observations. I decided to spend a week on bubbles when my Dad asked me if I'd taught them to blow bubbles in milk. "Why not?" he asked when I said I hadn't. "It's so much fun!" So now the kids know that milk is as good as soap and water at bubble formation, and I'm sure their parents are silently cursing my soul.*


Anyway, the Littles mostly loved the bubble unit. I say "mostly" because on the Tuesday of that week, Little Darlin' decided to taste the soapy bubble solution, discovering that it did not taste good at all. Poor kid, when I glanced over at him he was making a truly pitiable face, gasping in shock and clutching his tummy. Philosophical T.A. steered him to the bathroom where he started retching into the sink, occassionally letting out little sobs of dismay. I didn't think any permanent damage would be done, but took him over to see Dr. Pumpkin anyway, mostly to make him feel better.**

Dr. Pumpkin is the soul of gentleness, and the kids love him. (Especially Little Sweetie, whose father is also a doctor. Except that Little Sweetie seems unaware that Dr. Pumpkin's name has two syllables, and is known to cry out, "Hello, Dr. 'kin!" at every opportunity. So cute.) Anway, the good doctor patiently "examined" Little Darlin' by listening to his heart with a stethoscope and, when directed by the patient via pudgy index finger on belly button, to his tummy. Very Norman Rockwell. He gave L.D. some lemon-flavored fizzy stuff ("It's just like Sprite!" said the good doctor), and sent us back to Kindergarten.

Throughout that afternoon, whenever I saw L.D. grimace, I'd offer him another sip of Dr. Pumpkin's "prescription." When I told the Littles that we would make bubbles again on Wednesday, L.D. said, "I will not make them. Sweetie and Pumpkin will make them. I will play with blocks." We eventually persuaded Little Darlin' to have another go at bubble-making. He was soon giggling with delight, and didn't ingest a drop.




*Update: In an effort to get somebody in our school to drink milk, I brazenly brought a pack of straws into class last Friday and told Little Sweetie to blow bubbles in his milk from the cafeteria. "And if you drink it down a little, you can blow really big bubbles without spilling!" I cheered, muffling Philosophical T.A.'s giggles. Caught on like wildfire: Little Darlin' could hardly wait to blow bubbles in his milk today. He even drank a little bit, though from the expression on his face as he tasted it, that may not happen again.

I'm waiting for the parental hate mail to roll in.

**Dr. Pumpkin is the father of Little Pumpkin and her sister Mini Pumpkin (a Pre-K student).