Marshmallow Dilemma, part 2

The situation was dire, very very dire.  The marshmallow coated the small town was showing just how nasty marshmallow truly is.

At first the population tried to dig their way out.  The marshmallow stretched and rebounded, white rubber bands.  Then some young kid suggested using fire to toast their way out.  A good idea for a child, but marshmallow continued to burn past the yummy stage, and the town was barely saved from a raging wildfire by local firemen.

Source

The rain did not solve the problems either. 

The top layers of the marshmallow became leathery, which seemed a “hurrah” moment.  Unfortunately, only children were able to walk across the top.

What about getting food to each home?  Children were dispatched pulling sleds across the tough layers, carrying basics to place on porches.   Boxes were appreciated by everyone, even cranky Old Man Hinkle who lived alone.

The military was called in, with their scientists who finally discovered that liquid nitrogen would freeze the marshmallow solid and could be chipped away.  

Source: an interesting site

All residents were ordered to stay inside their houses, and cuddle close to the fireplace, with a crackling fire burning high.  The helicopters flew around and over the town repeating this message many times.

All townspeople stepped of onto the solidly frozen marshmallow and began chipping away at it with every sharp tool. 

This is a great site for experiments.

The military succeeded in clearing out the main thoroughfare and counting the citizens.  All were accounted for, except for Old Man Hinkle. 

Small, elvin Timmy climbed up the steeple to see if Hinkle could be seen anywhere.  The only evidence of Hinkle was some ski trails across the leathery top.  Old Man Hinkle was a wizened scrawny guy; the leathery marshmallow top allowed him to escape the marshmallow-cursed town.

A letter had been left behind on the kitchen table:  ”I’m outta here…Gone to ‘Vegas…”


P.S.  I neglected to back-link the original story which inspired this follow up story:

Go to:  Marshmallow is not just for cocoa  This may clear up any confusion about 'what the heck?'

Not the 'Good Napkins', but....

This is the second day of school for Bright Eyes.  Already, she and her little clutch of friends are striving for good behavior, and most importantly, “table points”.
 

courtesy of Bing.com

Rules are there for a reason.

Unless you are familiar with the discipline plans and rewards used in an elementary classroom, that means nothing to you.  “Table Points” are the points a cluster of six students called a ‘table group’ can earn by sitting up straight, paying attention, folding hands in front of them, or remaining silent when the world around them is wreaking wild havoc.

The table group who garners the most points throughout the whole week gets to choose prizes from the Treasure Chest.  “Oh. My. Goodness.  This is so big, like, you know, Grandma!  And, we were the first table group for the school year, too.”  Bright Eyes now sounds like every teeny girl in Disney™ television shows.  It makes me sad, and a little cranky to be honest.

You, too, can choose from the treasure chest!

So, Bright Eyes hopped into the van, grasping her prize from the Treasure Chest.  It was a small zippered bag, like a girl would carry in her purse for lipstick and such. She had so much to tell about her day, and she had to buckle in before she could examine her treasured prize.

There was silence from Bright Eyes as my daughter drove, letting Sunshine fill in the news of her day.  Then, “Mommy, what is this?”

From the treasured prize, Bright Eyes pulled out three Tampons™, and held them up for her mother to view in the rear view mirror. She was told that they would talk about those things at home.  But that was never enough for Bright Eyes; she knew a brush-off when she saw it.  So Bright Eyes tore them open, and speculated about their uses.  Not a flashlight…oh, look, here’s string…she swung the tampons around on their strings…No, this isn’t a telescope. Here, Sunshine!  You can play with this one…”

This looks like a good book.

When they all arrived home and the front door closed, my daughter (God bless her.) gave Bright Eyes an abbreviated explanation; she took the Tampons away.  Then she called the teacher, who listened in silence.  The Teacher said, “Oh, dear.  I’d better called Bright Eyes’ best friend.  She picked the same thing.” 

Ahhh.  The joys of teaching.  The joys of learning.