Holidays (national or somewhat arbitrary) offer fun inspiration for projects and lessons for kids. Yesterday was Penguin Awareness Day (though I'm happy to celebrate penguins any day of the year!) and I wanted to take this opportunity to shine a light on this fine bird with project, book, and design inspiration. If you have other ideas to share, feel free to do so in the comments below!

1. Adopt a penguin of your very own. My friend Sharon tells me that she and her husband have received several informative and fun letters from their adopted penguin, and that the adopt-a-penguin experience has provided a great learning opportunity for her grandkids.

2. If you’re looking for an adorable penguin-inspired picture book, try Penguin and Pinecone (one of Violet’s favorites).

3. This worldwide campaign to knit sweaters for penguins is old. But OMG.

4. Pudge Penguin. Adorable name. Also, Violet’s favorite little buddy right now.

5. Penguin duct tape. Great for DIY belts and other crafts.

6. Kitchen project alert: olive penguins.

7. Footprint penguins make for a messy but cute keepsake project.

8. I love the bright cheerfulness of this penguin scarf.

9. Pick up your needles for this knitted penguin.

10. And Purl Bee penguins for those who sew.

11. Felt penguin finger puppets make for an easy project with kids.

12. Make your own penguin family.

13. Get out the crayons for this plethora of penguin coloring pages.

14. Penguin activities for preschool parents and teachers.

Image credits: All images attributed to linked sources above.

Today, Jennifer shares a roundup of books to help teach kids (and adults!) about the civil rights movement:

Last year, a school lesson on the civil rights movement really resonated with my kids. They never willingly offer up information on their school day, yet in this case they were fighting to be the first to tell me all they had learned about Ruby Bridges. (“She was six years old like us and she helped to change the laws!”) To their shock, I was unfamiliar with the story (and yes, I was embarrassed to be getting schooled by two six-year-olds!).

I want my children to understand that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday is not just another day off from school. Here are some books we have enjoyed reading on the civil rights movement, all great for ages 4 – 8:

1. Boycott Blues by Andrea Davis Pinkney. The cadence of the text about Rosa Parks' unwillingness to give up her seat on the bus is blues-y. The story narrated by a dog features Jim Crow as a bird who pecks at people. The illustrations are vibrant.

2. This Is The Dream by Diane Shore & Jessica Alexander. This story in three parts uses rhythmic text to summarize the rules of segregation and many events that comprised the civil rights movement, and also provide a look at where are we now.

3. The Story of Ruby Bridges by Robert Coles. My children were so taken with the story of this heroic 6-year-old I had to learn more. Ruby faced angry crowds and an empty classroom to become the first to attend an all white school after desegregation in New Orleans. This is a great book to spark discussion!

4. We March by Shane Evans. You can feel the excitement and emotions through the pages of this first person narrative of a family getting ready to participate in the historic march. Colorful illustrations depict an inclusive diverse group of marchers.

Do you have a book on this topic that you felt was really great for young kids? Feel free to share in the comments below?

Today, Lindsey (also of A Design So Vast) recommends a small book with big meaning:

My children have many, many books. I read them all, but I have a few special favorites. The Ant and the Elephant is one of these. Bill Peet's lovely story speaks of the importance of kindness to all and also of the immense power that is contained in cooperation and goodwill.
The Ant and the Elephant begins with an ant finding himself stranded on a lone branch after scrambling out of a fast-moving stream. He asks a turtle for help, and receives an abrupt refusal to help. "If I went racing about helping everyone who was in trouble I'd have no time to relax," the turtle tells the ant before ambling off to sun himself.

It doesn't take long for the turtle to find himself in peril, and when he asks a bird for help he is similarly rudely dismissed. On and on these rude denials of assistance go, threading up the food chain through bigger and bigger animals. The bird rejects the turtle, as do the giraffe, the lion, and the rhino in turn. Finally, an elephant comes rumbling through the forest. He hears the ant calling for help and without hesitation he goes to his aid. The delighted ant says, "How can I ever thank you enough?" and the elephant replies, "It was no big thing." "But it was a big thing for me," responds the ant, and in that line we reach the central theme of Bill Peet's book. Sometimes the smallest effort can have an enormous positive impact.

Later in the day, the elephant is the one who finds himself in trouble. He falls into a hidden ravine and lands on his back, wedged into a position from which he cannot move. After hours of lying in the deep pit and wondering how he will get out, he hears the ant's tiny voice. The grateful ant heard the elephant's cries for help and came to his aid, accompanied with 95,000 of his friends. The elephant thanks the ant for his offer to help, but doubts his ability to do so. But the thousands of ants come together are able to gradually hoist the elephant out of the ravine. The cooperation of 95,000 of the earth's tiniest animals is enough to lift one of its largest.

"That was tremendous!" the elephant exclaims when he is out of the hole. "I can't believe it!" "It was nothing," the ants demur. "Nothing for you," the elephant replies, echoing the ant's comment earlier that same day. "But a mighty big thing for me." And the ants hop on the elephant's back, hitching a ride through the forest back to their hill. Bill Peet's simple parable reminds us that the biggest and the smallest can work together and demonstrates the ways in which that cooperation can literally move mountains.

Today, Paige (also of Mudroom Boston) recommends a game that actually lives up to its name:

When my oldest son expressed interest in chess after reading the first installment of the Harry Potter series, I was excited, but tentative. While he loves to learn new games, he gets pretty frustrated when he can't master a game quickly. Not being a chess player myself, I had a vague sense that learning chess, let alone mastering it, was not going to be an easy task.
Boy, was I wrong.

On a trip to Stellabella Toys, I came across No Stress Chess, a version promising that players aged 7 and up would "Play the World's Greatest Game Instantly!" For once, an advertising slogan turned out to be true! The secret, I learned, is the special deck of cards from which players draw, showing exactly which piece to move and how to move it. While the deck eliminates the need to remember how every piece works, we found ourselves learning very quickly and not needing to refer to the card's instructions every time we drew. After just a few days of playing, my son was challenging us to games without the cards. A year after getting the game, his interest hasn't waned. At least once a week he pulls it out before bed and beats us handily.

Even though the process can become messier and the results less perfect, I love baking with kids. It makes for a fun project (just this week we had a friend of Laurel's over for a baking play date -- so fun!), offers yummy rewards, and you can choose to work in some math teaching if you like. Laurel and I recently tried a new (to us) cookie recipe from Lori Longbotham's Luscious Lemon Desserts that was just delightful; a lovely twist on basic sugar cookies. Below I've edited the steps and added notes to offer some shortcuts and tips, as well as ideas for incorporating kids into the process. Enjoy!

+ + + + +

Old-Fashioned Lemon Sugar Cookies
Makes 4 dozen cookies

• 1 2/3 cups sugar (split)
• 2 teaspoons pure lemon oil (split)
• 2 1/2 cups flour
• ½ teaspoon baking soda
• ¼ teaspoon salt
• 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
• 1/3 cup finely grated lemon zest (approximately 6 lemons worth)
• 1 large egg
• 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Butter 2 large non-stick baking sheets. (I recommend using Silpat mats. You don't need to spray or butter the mat and the cookie bottoms always come out perfect.)
2. Stir together 2/3 cup sugar + 1 teaspoon lemon oil in a small bowl. Set aside.
3. Sift together flour, baking soda, and salt in a medium bowl. (I never sift anything and it seems to work out fine. Laurel is old enough to measure out ingredients but with younger kids you can hand them the measured out ingredients to dump and mix in the bowl.)
4. Using a hand or standing mixer, beat the butter, remaining 1 cup of sugar, remaining 1 teaspoon of lemon oil, and lemon zest until light and fluffy. Add the egg and beat until well blended. Add the flour mixture and lemon juice and beat until just blended. (Experienced and steady-handed kids can be tasked to work the hand mixer or turn on the standing mixer and keep an eye on consistency. If you are using a standing mixer, make sure you lock the mixer in the down position before your kid turns it on. Just in case!
5. Form balls with tablespoonfuls of dough. Roll them in the sugar-lemon oil mixture (from step 2) to coat well and place about 3 inches apart on baking sheets. Flatten each ball with the bottom of a glass until about 2 inches round and 3/8 inch thick. Sprinkle each one with a pinch of the sugar-lemon oil mixture. (Laurel and I split the dough. I followed the steps here -- except that I forgot the final sprinkling step -- and she rolled out her dough on a floured surface and cut it with cookie cutters. This dough was much softer than traditional sugar cookie dough so it was harder to roll out and cut, but Laurel was determined! One thing that helped was to use shapes with simple patterns/edges. Both versions were delicious!)
6. Bake, one sheet at a time, for 8-10 minutes until edges are lightly browned. Remove from baking sheet and cool on a wire rack. (I popped the sheets in two at a time and kept an eye on them. It worked fine!)

Image credit: Suat Eman via FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Today, Paige (also of Mudroom Boston) shares a beloved book, good for Valentine's Day or any day:

"Mr. Hatch was tall and thin and he did not smile." And so begins the story of Mr. Hatch, a lonesome man who leads a gray and dreary life. He leaves his house at precisely 6:30am for his job at the shoelace factory every day, sits alone and eats his cheese and mustard sandwich for lunch every day, and stops at the grocery store for a fresh turkey wing for dinner every day. And then one day, a day unlike every other day, the postman changes Mr. Hatch's world when he delivers a giant heart-shaped box of chocolates, complete with a special Valentine's note. "Somebody loves you," the note says. But who?
In Eileen Spinelli's Somebody Loves You, Mr. Hatch (our favorite Valentine story that we read year-round), we get a peek into how someone's whole life can change with one simple expression of love. As soon as Mr. Hatch reads that note, his world becomes more colorful and expressive -- captured perfectly by illustrator Paul Yalowitz -- as he begins wearing polka dot ties, helps out neighbors in need, throws backyard parties complete with homemade brownies, and laughs like he's never laughed before.

But just when we think all is right in Mr. Hatch's life, the postman returns to admit that he delivered the box to the wrong address, and suddenly Mr. Hatch's new found joy disappears (as does the color from Yalowitz's illustrations). And just when you want to jump into the pages of Mr. Hatch's world and say, "but WE love you, Mr. Hatch," the many people whose lives he touched in those few brief days of happiness band together and show Mr. Hatch exactly what he means to them.

Somebody Loves You, Mr. Hatch is a story that has brings tears of empathy and joy. With its simply written story and expressive pictures, not only does it teach that saying "I love you" can change someone's life, but that opening up to other people can change your life, too -- an important lesson for kids and grownups alike.

Today, Lindsey (also of A Design So Vast) recommends a favorite family board game:

My family loves to play board games. I haven't had too much luck finding any beyond the old classics -- Sorry, Connect Four, Monopoly -- that everybody really gets into, but that changed when my daughter was given Spy Alley for her ninth birthday. Spy Alley is "a game of suspense and intrigue" and we have found ourselves playing it over and over again. Each player has a secret spy identity, and the goal is to complete your mission by obtaining code books, disguises, keys, and passwords while also hiding who you are from the other players. To do this you have to purchase the books, disguises, keys, and passwords of other spies, hoping to confuse your competitors as to your real identity.
At any time, a player can guess the identity of another, though doing so entails the risk of being eliminated from the game. The game is high-stakes and fun, and my children always enjoy thinking about the nuances of a spy's identity. The box says the game is for ages 8 to adult, but my 6 year old son has successfully played with us as well. Games take about 45 minutes, and anywhere from 2 to 6 players can play. It really is notable that none of us is bored of Spy Alley, even though we've been playing it for a month or more. I highly recommend it!

Today, Paige (also of Mudroom Boston) shares a beloved book:

During a recent playground conversation with a fellow mom, we were recounting our childhoods. Although we grew up in different areas, our memories were the same -- hours and hours of unsupervised outside playtime with neighborhood friends, solo bike rides into town to buy candy, and walking to school by ourselves by the time we were in second grade. As we hovered over our four collective children, occasionally interrupting our own chatting with a "Don't run so fast!" or "Watch your head!", I reflected on how much life and "playtime" had changed for my own kids in just one generation.

A few days after this conversation, a Boston Magazine article by Katherine Ozment began circling around my Facebook world. Called Welcome to the Age of Overparenting, Ozment wrote about whether her style of parenting -- what has come to be the style for many of us these days -- was contributing to the demise of her own children's freedom and imagination. She wrote:

"I still remember the time my two older brothers built an igloo in our front yard. It had a domed roof and arched entrance, and they strung an overhead work lamp from the ceiling and laid out a small rug so we could all sit in it for hours. Witnessing my children's paltry fort-making skills, I thought, Is this what our kids will remember of winter -- digging little holes in the snow as their mother hovered nearby? Where has the childhood I once knew gone?"

Both the conversation and Ozment's article reminded me of one of our very favorite bedtime books -- maybe a favorite for me because it so beautifully captures what I feel my kids are in danger of losing if I don't ease up a bit -- the freedom and imagination to create worlds of their own, worlds that don't include parents.

Roxaboxen, written by Alice McLerran and illustrated by Caldecott Medal winner Barbara Cooney, tells the story of a very real town in Arizona created out of the fantasy of children. Like any town, Roxaboxen has houses filled with tables and dishes, shops, a town hall and mayor, and even a jail. Roxaboxen is the first place that the neighborhood children run to after school, and is where they spend their summers, building new homes and shops. And even though the town is run by children, they still have rules -- eat as much ice cream as you want, but don't break the speed limit or Policeman Jamie may take you to the cactus-lined jail. Swords made of ocotillo plants serve as weapons in war, sticks stand in for horses, broken glass creates jeweled windows, and small black pebbles buy you anything you want in Roxaboxen.

I love reading Roxaboxen with my sons not only because it reminds me of the freedom of my own childhood, but also reminds me what I want for them and my need to step back a bit and let it happen. I recently asked my older son if he thought it was strange that there were no parents in Roxaboxen. "Oh, Mom, there are parents," he said, "you just don't see them."

Exactly.

My Canadian friend Leslie gifted Laurel with a copy of Anne of Green Gables a couple of years ago. Given that Laurel loves chapter books with female central characters, we've been looking forward to reading Anne together but the language is still a little too advanced (Amazon lists the series for ages 9 and up). I subsequently was thrilled to find an adapted version of Anne of Green Gables in a box of hand me downs from my sister-in-law Estelle.
Perfect for avid young readers who also still love picture books, Laurel and I loved reading this book together. Although Laurel was initially a bit rattled at the beginning -- by the idea that Anne might be sent away for being a girl -- as the story developed, she was clearly captivated by Anne's strength, sauciness, and sensitivity. Laurel has already said she can't wait to read the original book and all the subsequent Anne stories. Meanwhile, I'm going to see if we can track down other adaptations of later books in the series.

One shopping note: The adapted Anne of Green Gables I found on Amazon has a different cover and publishing date (off by a year) than the copy I have, but shares the same contributor list for author (L. M. Montgomery), adapter (Margaret DeKeyser), and illustrator (Jerry Dillingham), as well as the same approximate page count and publisher (Dalmation Press). After poking around quite a bit on Amazon, I'm pretty confident that this is the same version I have. Enjoy!