Today, we were reading Anthony McCall Smith's new series about Precious Ramotswe's Botswana. When the father of Precious recalls being confronted by a lion, I asked the girls what would they do had they been in Obed's shoes. Maybelle considered her actions, while Tigerlily yelled out that she would eat him. I countered, "I think the lion would want to eat you." Then, she retorted, "I would use my gun, and then make him into meat." Maybelle remained silent, astutely pondering her course. Finally she said, "I would run for shelter and barricade myself in." And, there they are, often one is action, while the other is potential energy.
At other times, there reactions are shockingly similar. In the throes of the evil chill vortex that has made me think of Jack Frost as a charming, warm hearted fellow, we have been all but agoraphobics. We are starting to feel like the weather is sentencing us to house arrest. I have moved from mother to camp counselor, filling every moment with something, anything, that might prevent mutiny. After all, if I had to walk the gang plank, I might freeze before I fell off.
So, today, when NPR posted about chilling experiments, we got to going. A little ginger ale, some grenadine, rose water, and of course, insanely, unseasonably, ridiculously cold weather, and you have a drink that both of my girls devoured with equal vigor. Watch the video at the end of NPR's post for directions.