Homemade Mother Day Gifts – Written by You
Mother’s Day origins can be traced to the UK, when Mothering Sunday was celebrated long before it saw the light of day in the USA. Each year in the run up to Mother’s Day, lots of us are wondering ‘What can I get my mom’.
OK, so a bouquet of flowers is very original, but maybe a bit too obvious? A box of chocolates is a bit too common! But how about something that would last forever! Here are my favourite ideas for homemade Mother Day gifts:
The Fall – A Short Story in Three Parts – Part Three
This is the third of a three part story by 10 year old Alice. Read Part One and Part Two first.
My view is hazy, but I can work out the blurry shape of a nurse, standing by my bed. My eyelids shut; the light was stinging my eyes.
“Hello?” The voice is soft. I decide to answer.
“Hello,” I answer.
“I’m Josie,” says the nurse, pulling up a chair beside the bed. “What’s your name?”
“Kieran,” I reply, chewing my lip.
“Well, Kieran, you’ve been through a lot,” she says. She feels my forehead. “You had a raging fever you know. How do you feel now?”
What is the Orionid Meteor Shower?
This October Earth will be passing through the tail of Halley’s comet, which will mean a shower of meteors flashing across the night sky. Our science editor Sam Gouldson explains.
What is Halley’s Comet?
A comet is a lump of rocky particles, ice and dust all bound together like a dirty snowball. When the comet nears a star, its surface transforms from a solid to a gas. The star’s light shines through these gases and makes them visible to observers as a fuzzy cloud around the comet’s centre, and a tail streaming out behind.
A Short Story – The White Dove
Dad walks over to me. He’s carrying several slices of bread.
‘Hi, Grace.’
‘Hi,’ I say, giving him a look which I hope he understands means, I am so not impressed with this new pre-birthday arrangement.
Dad doesn’t seem to have noticed my look. I wonder what he’s doing with the bread.
‘For the ducks,’ he says when he catches me staring at it.
I nod and decide not to mention that I am no longer five years old and that feeding the ducks in the park doesn’t exactly excite me anymore.
‘Right,’ I say, as we head over to the pond.
‘So, Grace, how have you been?’
We sit down on the bench next to the willow tree.