Mummy Dearest

Every two years, Garfield County schools have what is termed an Academic Fair.  It's the broader version of a science fair; by not limiting it to science, the kids are able to do projects and research on ANY topic they choose.  Grades Kindergarten through Junior High participate and the variety of projects is amazing! 

Maggie's project was about mummies, of all things! Other little girls chose cats or dogs or horses....not my daughter; mummies are deliciously hideous and absolutely fascinating to her. 

Wednesday night, she finished up the sarcophagus and worked with her dad on a pyramid.

You can't really see the gold braid and tassel, or get the full effect of the glitter, in this picture.

There really IS a mummy in that thing, but it's sealed and no one was allowed to view the body.

I don't know what she used for her mummy....I don't WANT to know.

Angus had a little mummy envy....

Here's his stab at heiroglyphics.

Even MORE envy when he saw the board....

Finally found the child and had her sit in front of her display for a photo.

She's hiding her enthusiasm well, isn't she?

Here's my friend, Ben, with his amazing LEGO project!

Honestly, I had no idea there was THAT much to know about LEGOs.

Talk about a passion!

Kailah, with her Siberian Husky project.  She has a part Siberian Husky dog at home and learned a lot more about the breed through this project.  I love her diorama!

Rebekka and her wild horse display.  She had GREAT maps and diagrams!

Maggie won second highest points for the whole group of second graders!

You can't see it very well, but she's holding up her medal!  Mrs. Carroll and Nancy Horn did every step with her, so really, they should've had medals, too. 

And that's the latest from Cohagen!

The game's afoot!

I didn't think she'd notice....

I'd only snuck a few measly spoonfuls from her chocolate fudge brownie Ben and Jerry's ice cream container.  Nothing alarming.  Not like I'd eaten half the container or anything. Besides, she hadn't eaten ice cream for 2 1/2 weeks.  I had convinced myself that she probably didn't even LIKE it anymore.  (Chocolate fudge brownie ice cream can get so...boring....after a couple servings; right?)

Oh, she noticed.

When I handed her the slightly sampled container and a spoon yesterday, there was an exclamation.

"HEY! Someone's been eating my ice cream!!!"

(You'll note that she didn't ask WHO had been eating her ice cream...I'd have had to have confessed all, if that had been the case.)

As Maggie thoughtfully ate her ice cream and pondered the loss, I went to put clothes in the dryer, feeling like the worst sort of heel.

However, when I returned, she seemed cool and I didn't see any need to upset her by bringing the topic up again.

I'm sensitive to her feelings that way.

A little later, SHE mentioned the theft again, but this time, she had a plan.

She was in possession of fingerprint powder from her detective kit and had dusted the container.

Dang.

It was just a little ice cream!

Seriously?

Fingerprinting?

This was JUST the sort of case she'd been looking for, for months!

A who-dunnit!

A serious crime!

Rather than being distraught over the loss, she was jubilant!

At last, the chance to sleuth, the opportunity to nab a villain, justice, vindication...

It was almost too good to be true.

I mentioned that there could be prints from the people who stocked ice cream in the store, the checkers, the bag boys, Daddy who dished some up for her.

She remained firm in her resolve that THIS was going to be an open and shut case.

The minute the thief opened and shut the ice cream container, that is.

I have not even breathed on it, since.

But I'm about to crack and confess.

I can't handle the pressure of the guilt.

I'm weary of wearing rubber gloves to get ice cubes for my gin and tonics.

I want to be able to sleep at night, without tossing and turning in nightmares of a seven year-old standing over me with a magnifying glass and disappointed look on her face.

Never snitch ice cream from Maggie Drew.

I've learned my lesson!

I scream, you scream

...we all scream for ICE CREAM!

Yes, I realize that their faces are covered with blue sidewalk chalk....
That's what happens when
*deep breath*
you are Indians who are living in the woods, when all of a sudden, pirates who want to burn your village arrive and burn your village, except you escape on a boat and go to an island far, far away and hide with all your worldly possesions, belatedly discovering that you forgot to take provisions (food, especially) and have to travel to the main fort to beg for

ice cream!

(That was more or less the story I got when the grubby natives arrived on my deck.)

Twilla, trying her very best to be a good dog....

Indians drop parts of their ice cream cones, sometimes, in places too small for hungry dogs to reach, even with 6 inch noses. (Think of that little squirrel in Ice Age, who was always j-u-s-t a little short of the acorn...same kind of desperation, here.)

Eh...we don't need no stinkin' napkins...

Dang.
The cat formerly known as Cap'n Barbosa (re-named Elizabeth, but called Fat Kitten) IS small enough to scavenge, to Twilla's huge dismay!

We've had unseasonably warm days, lately.  The kids have discarded shoes and couth, and are running wild outside as many daylight hours as they can!

*Note for all the grandmothers and germ-i-phobes: I DID make them wash their hands with soap and water.  They weren't happy about it.  Apparently, according to them, Indians don't waste time on soap and water when there's ice cream to be had....