First you must know the wonderful story of Little Red Riding Hood. If you don't know, the wolf ate up her grandma and then ate Little Red up too! But the woodcutter saved the day and got them back. So this is the story of how the woodcutter, grandma Red, and Little Red got the wolf back!
Once upon a time, lived a little girl. She had a little red riding hood that was given her, that she wore so much, that everybody caled her Little Red Riding Hood. She had a grandma who was very ill. Her and her grandma didn't see eachother much because they both lived in different villages. But one, sunny, autumn day, Little Red got a call from her grandmother.
"Little Red Riding Hood, do you remember that nasty old wolf?" asked Grandma.
Every time a good child dies, an angel of God comes down to earth.
He takes the child in his arms, spreads out his great white wings, and flies with it all over the places the child loved on earth. The angel plucks a large handful of flowers, and they carry it with them up to God, where the flowers bloom more brightly than they ever did on earth. And God presses all the flowers to His bosom, but the flower that He loves the best of all He kisses. And then that flower receives a voice, and can join in the glorious everlasting hymn of praise.
You see, all this one of God's angels said as he was carrying a dead child to Heaven, and the child heard it as if in a dream. As they passed over the places where the child used to play, they came through gardens with lovely flowers. "Which flowers shall we take with us to plant in Heaven?" asked the angel.
There were once two brothers, the sons of a rich merchant, and when he died he left all his estate to be divided between them equally. This was done, and the elder at once set about trading and improving his condition, so that very soon he became twice as rich as he had been.
But the younger son had no luck. Everything he undertook failed. Moreover, he never had the heart to say no to a friend in need. So before long he was left with not a penny in his purse or a roof over his head.
In his distress he went to his elder brother and asked help of him.
My fingers they went for a walk,
And came to the land of wokntok.
A far away land with beauty to see,
White rolling clouds and black bumble bee.
The trees, they were huge and green,
The flowers, of many hues and sheen.
Animals scampered here and there,
Tiny streams flowed everywhere.
They walked up the hill,
And rolled down the side.
And in the morn
went in a tunnel and came out at night.
Original story by Nilum Jajodia
This story is intended for the child studying in Upper Kindergarten and the pitcher plant is a part of their environmental studies curriculum.
In the beginning of time man had a tail. As man started to walk on 2 legs and use his hands effectively, his tail slowly disappeared. Now man has no tail. This is called biological evolution. Biological evolution does not happen in the blink of an eye. Indeed it takes millions of years.
We have been learning about plants and have seen many beautiful plants and flowers in our journey through the plant kingdom. We have seen how they make food; we have seen how they draw food from the soil, to help them grow.
Today I am going to tell you the story of a plant which changed itself so that it would not go hungry.
Once upon a time a brave king ruled in the northern part of India. He was also kind and a just king who revered intelligent humans. He would seek advice from the wise and rule his kingdom aptly. Once an old sage visited his palace as a guest. He asked the old guru to reveal the formula to survive the worst of the time, if it ever befelled on him.
The old sage wrote something on a piece of paper, folded and sealed it. Handing over, he said, "keep this very close to you at all times. Only when you face a situation that is beyond you or when nothing else works and all is lost then open this and follow the formula." Saying this the sage left.
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The villagers of Kugaon village in North India were divided over cast. There were a large segment of upper cast and a smaller section of lower caste living on the opposites sides of the village, having their own independent farms, wells, schools, etc. However, there was a common hill not too far from the village which was a gateway to another state.
An eight year old girl called Sita belonging to another village came to live with her uncle for a few years, because her father had gone to the city in search of better financial prospects.
Her uncle was one of the members of the village panchayat and by default belonging to upper caste. She loved exploring the countryside. She was strictly warned from venturing into the other side by her uncle.
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This is the first story in my series "Oliver and Jumpy". Oliver is a black tomcat with a white top hat. His best friend is Jumpy, a kangaroo lady and later on in the series her son Joey. They live in a place called Sillandia, the silly country, and experience all sorts of adventures.
Do you like cats? Yes? I am glad, because I am a black cat with a white top hat. I have a few white spots on my fur too. Mum iswhite, you see! My name is Oliver. I am a very elegant tomcat with the shiniest coat in the world. I brush my fur every morningand always keep my nails trim! Of course, my hat is really refined too, which is another word for elegant.
Whenever you put on your new clothes, you can annouce to everybody: I am refined! And all those everybodies will think what an elegant person you are. Well, enough of all that talk about me, although I can never talk too much about myself. I really think I am a cool cat. I love myself! You think this is naughty? You are probably right. But I can't help it.
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There once was a Winter so fierce and freezing that even the air was turning to ice.
The snow was so deep that it buried barns, farms and entire forests and the wind wailed as fierce as fire and burned the skin. And worst of all, April was almost over and there seemed to be no end to this blast of icy misery.
Despite the pressure of tons of prayers for Spring to come and melt the snow, Winter persisted.
The animals in the woods were running out of food. Some had frozen to death when they had gone out and tried to find food for their young. The situation was so grim that there was nothing left to do but cry, but the tears froze as they left the eyes.
This was the way it was for a fairly long time; until the geese started to fly north again as they always do when it's springtime.
There was once a poor widow who lived in a lonely cottage. In front of the cottage was a garden wherein stood two rose-trees, one of which bore white and the other red roses. She had two children who were like the two rose-trees, and one was called Snow-white, and the other Rose- red.
They were as good and happy, as busy and cheerful as ever two children in the world were, only Snow-white was more quiet and gentle than Rose-red. Rose-red liked better to run about in the meadows and fields seeking flowers and catching butterflies; but Snow-white sat at home with her mother, and helped her with her housework, or read to her when there was nothing to do.
The two children were so fond of one another that they always held each other by the hand when they went out together, and when Snow- white said: "We will not leave each other," Rose-red answered: "Never so long as we live," and their mother would add: "What one has she must share with the other."
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