MEETING 8, 2016YOUR STORY HOUR ®

Welcome to CLUBHOUSE Online!®

Aunt Carole

Uncle Dan

A Message fromAunt Carole & Uncle Dan

UNCLE DAN: I have a riddle for you, Aunt Carole...What’s the only fish that swims at night?

AUNT CAROLE: Hmmm. Let me think. OK, I have it--aStarfish!

UNCLE DAN: You’re right! I think. Wait a second...dothe other fish sleep?

AUNT CAROLE: Now that you mention it, I’m not sure.But I do know one thing for sure.

UNCLE DAN: Me too--and that one thing is GOD LOVESUS ALL VERY, VERY MUCH!

3

By Helen Hilbert

Moonlight Mercies

2

“MATHILDE!”

Mattie’s eyes flew open.

“The LUSITANIA sank on what

date?” Miss Higgins demanded.

Mattie felt a sharp pencil stab in

her back as Joseph answered,

“Last year, Ma’am, on May

7, 1915.”

Teacher still glared at

Mattie. “Did we wake you?

Another late night with the

doctor?”

Mattie straightened,

rocking her wooden

seat. “Oh, yes,

Ma’am. Papa and I

delivered a baby boy!”

A commotion erupted in the

classroom as Mattie was

bombarded with noisy

questions and excited

laughter. But she noticed

scowls of disapproval

as well.

“QUIET!”

boomed Miss Higgins, clapping

her hands. She turned to Mattie

with a warning. “Delivering babies

in the middle of the night is fine

work, but you’ve disrupted class

for the last time.”

Mattie felt another jab as

Joseph taunted, “Who even heard

of a 12-year-old doctor, anyway?”

Mattie tossed her head, letting her

black curls fly. She had been teased

before. She always did well in school,

but Miss Higgins’ anger worried her.

Later, eating lunch on the damp

spring grass, Mattie remarked

to Clarie, her best friend, “I’m

glad it’s stopped

raining! And oh,

that baby last night

was so...”

“I’m not interested, Mattie,”

Claire interrupted. She stood

up. “You’re going to be ex-

pelled!” With that, she darted

away to join another group in the

bright school yard.

Mattie’s appetite vanished;

her sandwich tasted like sawdust.

I enjoy helping Papa, she

thought. He needs me to drive

the wagon while he sleeps––he’s

always so exhausted after his

long, tiring days.

Out of the corner of her eye,

Mattie noticed little Johnny, the class

clown, moping alone in the shadow of

the schoolhouse. “That’s odd,” she

whispered aloud. But Miss Higgins

signaled the end of lunch with her bell,

and Mattie forgot Johnny. Instead she

concentrated on the afternoon lessons.

At home that night after supper and

chores, Mattie stared in the lamp light

at her books, brooding over Miss

Higgins’ warning and Claire’s behav-

ior. Maybe she was in deep trouble.

Maybe she shouldn’t make night

rounds anymore. From now on, she

thought, I’ll try to go on weekends

only and hope that Papa can manage

without me the other nights.

The next day Mattie was pleasantly

surprised when asked to help the 8-

year-olds with sums. She noticed that

little Johnny was absent, and she

questioned Claire about it, since

Claire was Johnny’s neighbor. But

Claire turned her back on Mattie.

That afternoon Mattie tried to forget

about Johnny––and about Claire’s

attitude––as she organized games for

the younger children in the school. It

was dark when she returned home,

and she went to bed immediately after

super and chores.

Much later Mattie bolted upright

from a deep sleep. Moonlight

streamed over her, and someone

hammered on the front door. She

jumped out of bed and raced three

steps at a time downstairs. Her father,

already half-dressed, was in the

doorway facing a breathless youth.

The boy stammered, “It...it’s Johnny,

sir, he’s hurtin’ bad! He can’t even

move!! Will you come now, Doctor

Wade, sir? Please?”

Mattie didn’t stop to think about

anything. She rushed back up to her

room, tore off her nightgown and

pulled on a school dress. Moments

later, carefully clutching a cup of

her mother’s steaming cocoa,

Mattie seated herself in the wagon

and gathered up the reins. Cluck-

ing the horse into motion, she

turned to her father as he lit a

lantern, steadied by its base

between his knees. “Papa, Johnny

acted sick yesterday,” she said,

“and he was absent today.”

But Papa was falling asleep,

already hunched forward on the

wagon bench. Mattie moved the

lantern so Papa’s coat wouldn’t

catch fire and continued driving

forward into the chilly night.

While the wagon jolted along,

Mattie gave thanks for a bright

moon. She avoided shimmering

puddles, but the trotting horse

flicked mud everywhere. The

breeze picked up, and Mattie

tightened her shawl. She took a

few more sips of the cocoa.

They were almost to Johnny’s

now, but they had to cross Ticky

Creek. Mattie urged the horse

towards the creek bank. “That’s

it, Sam.”

But Sam balked at the bank’s

edge. He wouldn’t go one step

further.

“MOVE!” commanded Mattie.

“What’s the matter with you, boy?

In spite of her raised voice, her

father slumbered on. Mattie had

to decide. “Can I force Sam, or

should I go the long way by Ames

4 5

Road?’ she wondered aloud. Any

delay was crucial, but the horse was

big and mulish. Mattie tugged the

reins with a sigh. “Ho, Sam, you

win.” They headed for Ames Road.

Johnny’s house was in a state of

chaos. Every light burned, while

Johnny lay sheet-pale. The doctor

diagnosed him quickly. “Abscessed

appendix. I’ll lance it, but there is

risk of peritonitis.” Johnny’s

mother’s eyes filled with tears.

Peritonitis was fatal––if that hap-

pened, her boy would die.

Mattie moved quickly. She put

her father’s instruments on to boil,

adding clean rags for use as wet

sponges. With the help of

Johnny’s brothers, she shoved

two kitchen tables together for a

crude operating surface. All the

lamps were arranged nearby, and

Mattie opened the curtains wide

to admit moonlight. Her father

helped the boys place Johnny

across the tables, and motioned

everyone except Mattie into the

next room.

As Mattie watched her father

prepare a small area of Johnny’s

swollen abdomen for surgery, she

silently fretted. Johnny was just too

still. He’d lost all his spirit. At her

father’s gesture, Mattie offered the

sharp scalpel. The next thing she

knew, fluid gushed everywhere.

The doctor spoke quietly,

confirming Mattie’s impression.

“That’s from the infection. His

appendix didn’t burst. If he sur-

vives this incision, he has a good

chance.” He hugged Mattie briefly,

then told her to get Johnny’s mother.

They departed near dawn. The

doctor was awake on the return

trip, telling lively stories. “...and that

man wasn’t lame,” her father

laughed as he continued his story.

“He just needed to cut his toenails!”

Mattie turned onto

Ames Road.

“Mattie, are

we lost?”

“No,

Papa,”

Mattie

ex-

plained.

“Stub-

born old

Sam

wouldn’t

cross the

creek.”

“Well, said Papa,

not the first peculiar thing

Sam’s done––or refused to

do, I should say.”

Once home, Mattie fell fully-

clothed into bed. When she awoke,

the sun was high and dishes clat-

tered in the sink. Oh, no!

She flew into the kitchen crying,

“Mama, why did you let me over-

sleep? Oh, now I’ll be expelled for

sure!” She burst into tears.

Mattie allowed herself to be

guided gently to a chair. Her mother

also sat down. “Mattie, while you

were outside playing late yesterday

afternoon, Miss Higgins, your

teacher, did visit me. We agreed on

a plan.”

These words sent Mattie into a

panic. Her thoughts darted about.

What plan?

“We decided that when you need

to sleep in after such a

night,” her mother was

saying, you’ll

stay after

school with

Miss

Higgins,

who will

help to

catch you

up.”

She

touched

Mattie’s

cheek.

“Now,

my

dear,

dry those tears

and off to school with you!”

Mattie dressed slowly, deep in

thought. So that’s what Miss

Higgins had meant about her not

disrupting class again. She had

been working on a plan to let Mattie

sleep. And Mattie did feel so much

better than when she’d had to drag

herself out of bed after a night call

with her father.

Halfway to school Mattie stopped.

What would the other students say to

her when she arrived so late? They

couldn’t know about Miss Higgins’

plan. And Claire...she’d probably

just be spiteful. Filled with dread,

Mattie continued her walk.

A short distance from the school-

house, Mattie heard a confusion of

children’s voices shouting, “Mattie,

how’s Johnny? You SAVED him!

Will he be back soon?”

Rattled, Mattie answered,

“P...Papa thinks so. How did you

all know?”

Joseph spoke up. “Johnny’s

brothers told everyone!” Then he

frowned at her. “How’d you get

across Ticky Creek? My Pa says it’s

up eight feet with all the rain!”

Mattie’s jaw dropped. That old

horse had known something was

wrong! She doubted Joseph would

believe that. “We didn’t,” she replied.

“We used Ames Road.”

A crowd of pupils closed in, asking

questions. On the edge stood Claire,

hanging back. But she was listening.

Mattie moved forward, smiled and

took Claire’s hand. Friends again, the

two girls walked with their classmates

to the schoolhouse.

Miss Higgins energetically rang her

bell, ending recess. And on her face

was a BEAMING smile, shining

directly at Mattie.

6

Jokes and riddles sent

in by readers. Sendyours to:

ClubhouseP.O., Box 15

Berrien Springs, MI49103

Clubhouse Kids

Send your poem, drawing or joke to:Clubhouse, P. O. Box 15, Berrien Springs,MI 49103. (If you submit a picture, besure it is on white paper without lines.Otherwise we won’t be able to use it.)

7

Q: What kind of nutsdon’t have shells?

Q: Why did thetomato blush?

Q: WHY WAS THE PICTURE INJAIL?

Q: Why was thestrawberry sad?

A: Because its father wasin a jam.

A: Donuts!

Q: What must youknow to train a dog?

A: More than the dog.

A: Because it saw the saladdressing.

A: BECAUSE IT WAS FRAMED.

Poem Notes“Think, think, think, Rachel.Come on. I know you can do this,” I tell myself.“Topic. I need a topic.Ummm, my iPod?No.What about something I did this summer?Not good enough!Come on, brain, think!”I twiddle my thumbsAnd doze off into a daydream.“Focus!”I say aloud while snapping my fingers,Trying to get my brain back on track.No topic comes to mind.I roll my pencil in my hands nervously.“Pencil, Pencil! That’s it! I’ll write a poem

about pencils!Yeah, right Rachel, are you joking?That is NOT an interesting topic.”I search in my writer’s notebook,But the topic just won’t come to me.And suddenly I get it–The perfect poem topic–Writer’s block!

–Rachel CrowleyQ: What game docows play at parties?

A: Moo-sical chairs.

Bible Snapshots Illustrated by Dave Carpenter

(Based on “God Cares” by Doris Burdick)

8 9

Puzzle Power

EVERY HEBREW (ISRAELITE) FAMILYPREPARED A SPECIAL SUPPER, ACCORD-

ING TO GOD’S INSTRUCTIONS. IT WASPART OF THE PREPARATION FOR A NIGHTTHAT GOD WANTED THEM TO REMEMBERFOREVER––THE NIGHT WHEN HE SAVEDTHEIR FAMILIES--THE PASSOVER. THE

PASSOVER FEAST WOULD BECOME PARTOF THEIR YEARLY CELEBRATION.

MOSES TOLD GOD’S PEOPLE, THEISRAELITES, WHO WERE SLAVES INEGYPT, TO ASK THE EGYPTIANS FOR

GOLD AND SILVER TO REPAY THEM FORTHEIR YEARS OF HARD LABOR. GOD HAD

ALREADY BROUGHT PLAGUES TO THEEGYPTIANS TO TRY TO CONVINCE

PHARAOH TO LET HIS PEOPLE GO. NOWHE WAS ABOUT TO BRING ONE MORE.

GOD ALSO TOLD THEM TO SPRINKLETHE BLOOD (OF THE ANIMALS THEY

USED FOR THE PASSOVER SUPPER) ONTHE DOORPOSTS AND THE BEAM ABOVETHE DOOR OF EACH OF THEIR HOMES.THAT NIGHT THE DESTROYING ANGEL

WOULD PASS OVER THE HOMES OFTHOSE WHO FOLLOWED GOD’S DIREC-

TIONS. THEIR OBEDIENCE WOULDSHOW THEIR FAITH.

THAT NIGHT THE FIRSTBORN SON OFTHE EGYPTIANS ALL DIED--EVEN THECROWN PRINCE, SON OF PHARAOH.THIS WAS TOO MUCH--PHARAOH,

FILLED WITH GRIEF AND TERROR, GAVETHE COMMAND, “GET OUT OF HERE, GO.TAKE YOUR SHEEP, GOATS, AND CATTLE,

AND LEAVE.” (EXODUS 12:32) THEFAMILIES OF THE ISRAELITE SLAVES

WERE SPARED.

Where to find the story: Exodus 11 & 12.

FIND THESE WORDS FROM THE STORY ON THELEFT IN THE PUZZLE BELOW. LOOK UP, DOWN,LEFT, RIGHT AND DIAGONALLY.

ANGEL, BLOOD, CATTLE, CELEBRATION, CROWN,DIES, DOORPOSTS, EGYPTIAN, FEAST, GOLD,GRIEF, HEBREWS, ISRAELITES, LABOR, MOSES,PASSOVER, OBEDIENCE, PHARAOH, PLAGUES,SHEEP, SILVER, SLAVES, SPRINKLE, SUPPER.

Y E R P A S S O V E R T IN G O L D P H A R A O H DW Y B A B R E P P U S P IO P A G R I E F E G Y H ER T L U L N P A M O S E SC I P E H K N D O O L B LF A G S I L V E R EW R AE N T O B E D I E N C E VA S S T S O P R O O D W ES E T I L E A R S I L S ST B C E L E B R A T I O N

Solution on page 19.

10 11

SaSaSaSaSayyyyyingingingingingGood-bGood-bGood-bGood-bGood-bye toye toye toye toye to

CobbleCobbleCobbleCobbleCobbleCoCoCoCoCottattattattattagegegegegeBy June KlugeIllustrated by

Debora Weber

“It looks as if we’ll have todo what Sam Brown’s fatherdid,” said William, bangingthrough the cabin door.“Father says we must burn ourcabin and sift the ashes forthe nails, if we’re to have nailsto build our new home in thewilderness.”

Linnie looked up from herspinning to stare at herbrother. “No,” she cried,”

forgetting the rule that chil-dren should be seen, not heard.“Not burn our cabin!”

“We’ve no choice,” saidWilliam. “There’s not a sparenail to be found in all of Ply-mouth Colony.”

“Aye,” Linnie answeredsadly. The problem was asplain as a black iron pot. “Wewill need nails, if our cabin isto be ready by winter.” Her

frown matched the crease inher brother’s brow.

Linnie looked around her atthe drying ears of corn fes-tooning the log walls; at the potof almost-done stew bubblingover the fire; at the samplerabove the mantle that said,“Home Sweet Home.”

“I know how you feel,”William said. “It will be hardto say good-bye to CobbleCottage.”

“Harder still to see it inashes,” Linnie answered. “Whycan’t we make our own nails likeTom Tandy used to do?”

“There’s no time. In thewilderness we will need nailsright away. The Plymouth FireBrigade told Father they willbring their buckets and hatch-ets to help control the fire.”

Linnie could bear to hear nomore. She jumped up, knockingover her spinning wheel, andran into the clearing. Thoughtsof how Cobble Cottage mightbe saved went round and roundin her head, but she could thinkof no way.

When she went back inside,her mother was asking Williamhow the fire-fighting crewwould go about controlling sucha big fire as Cobble Cottagewould make. Forgetting againthat she must act like a ladyLinnie clapped her hands over

her ears and ran back out.Racing down the path, she

thought of telling Aunt Ellen.Her aunt was minding a boyfrom James City until hisfather could come to Plymouthto make a home for him. Some-one had said the boy’s fatherwas a nail-maker. Maybe hewould have nails to sell.

Joseph was the boy’s name.He ducked his head shyly whenAunt Ellen introduced him toLinnie. Linnie sat down besidehim on the settee.

“We are moving west,” shesaid. “But first my father mustburn our cabin, so we’ll havenails to build a new home onthe prairie.”

“Moving west,” Joseph cried,looking at Linnie for the firsttime. “Someday, I will movewest. When I do, I will ridethe lead wagon.”

“But we must burn the homewhere we were born,” Linniewas close to tears. Josephdidn’t seem to care at all.

“If my father were here hewould make nails for you,”said Joseph.

“There isn’t time to makenails,” Linnie swallowed thelump in her throat. “I hadhoped your father had nailsto sell.”

“My father says someday heexpects nails will be as plenti-

1312

Cont. on page 19.

17

Jr. DetectiveJr. Detective

13Solution on page 1712

ful as hairs on a dog’s back,”said Joseph.

Linnie knew she shouldn’texpect him to be as unhappyas she was. She gulped.Someday, maybe there wouldbe laws stopping peoplefrom burning their houses.But someday could not helpher now.

“Nails are so valuable herethat people bury them, likegold, for safekeeping,” shecried. “They can even be usedas money.”

“Who knows better than Ithat nails are valuable,” Josephsaid. “My father has a cacheof them hidden away.”

Linnie felt her heart gothump. This was just what shewanted to hear. Joseph’sfather had nails. CobbleCottage could besaved. Shejumped up. “Willhe sell them to myfather?”

“They are forbuilding our owncabin here inPlymouth,” Josephanswered quickly.

Linnie’s spiritsfell along with herhope. She wishedshe didn’t careso much.

“We must have

a place to live,” Joseph addedsoftly into the quiet.

But Linnie’s thoughts werenot quiet. Her heart waspounding with excitement. “Aplace to live,” she murmured asan idea formed in her head.“Joseph, you are moving toPlymouth. My family is movingaway. You need a home. Weare leaving ours. Why couldn’tour fathers make a bargain?Your father’s nails in exchangefor our father’s cabin?”

Joseph stared at Linnie.The room got very still. “Itwould save my father the workof building,” he said. “Andsave your father the unpleas-ant task of sifting ashes.”

“It would save our cabin,”Linnie cried.“My father is not a carpenter,”

said Joseph.“He’ll like thatbargain.” “Let’s find myfather,” Linniewas skippingtoward the door.“He’ll be glad tohear the goodnews. And Iwon’t have to saygood-bye toCobble Cottage.It will always behere in Plymouth,strong and safe.”

Shady HollowsThere are 11 hollowshapes in thispuzzle. It is yourchallenge to shadein four shapeswhich do not borderone another.

(Below) You must visit each of the 14 spots in thismaze. The challenge is that you have to go to each

spot and can use each pathonly once–and that you“alternate” the color of the

Begin at the topspot and end atthe bottom spot.

spots–white, black,white, black andso on.

Alternating Occurrence

14 15

TTTTThe Whe Whe Whe Whe WiiiiinnnnnnnnnneeeeerrrrrBy Alyce Pickett, Illustrated by Sharon Stock

Alan Melton laymotionless underthe white sheets andlistened to thesounds outside hisdoor. Some of themwere strange to him.In his 12 years hehad never been in ahospital until twodays ago––after hisbicycle accident.

Now he heard a rattle-rattle atthe door of his room. Alan saw itwas a cart with little coveredtrays on it. A nurse, Miss Willard,was pushing it, and Dr. Lawson wasfollowing close behind.

“Good morning, Alan,” MissWillard greeted him cheerily.“Dr Lawson wants to see yourknee.” She quickly removed theadhesive and bandages andstepped back for the doctor toexamine the wound.

All the time Dr. Lawson lookedat his knee, Alan was watchingthe doctor’s face, but the ex-pression told him nothing.

“What about my knee?” Alanfinally asked. “Will it be O.K.?”

Dr. Lawson looked soberly atthe worried boy. “Can’t tell yet,”he said. “We’ll have to wait andsee.” He started out, but stoppedhalfway to the door to ask, “Youdo know you’ll be off that leg forsome time, don’t you?”

Yes, Alan knew.His sister, Karen,had told him yester-day. She also hadsaid he might needmore surgery andthat he might neverbe able to walkwithout limping.

“We know howmuch you want to beon the track team,

Alan,” Karen had said. “That’swhat makes it so hard for you, andfor all the family, too. We alldreaded having you know, but wewon’t give up. Lots of people havedisappointments. It’s the oneswho hold on to their dreams whowin out.”

“Yeah,” Alan had agreed.“Yeah. Don’t worry about it, Sis.”

But Karen still worried abouther younger brother. Shewished all this had happened toher instead of Alan. She wasolder, and running was not im-portant to her. But it was veryimportant to her brother. Hewas really serious about trackand hoped to be a champion run-ner. A crushed knee was aboutthe worst thing that could havehappened to him.

Alan had tried to be cheerfuluntil his sister had gone. Thenthe tears he had fought backwere suddenly falling fast. “I

will run,” he had vowed, “I will!”But he wasn’t really sure of whathe said. What would he do, if hecouldn’t run? Alan had done a lotof thinking since his sister’s visit.And now the doctor’s unwilling-ness to say if his knee would beokay didn’t help him feel better.

Early the next morning, NurseWillard and an orderly came inwith a wheelchair. “Dr. Lawsonwants an X-ray this morning,” thenurse told Alan.

A few minutes later when hewas wheeled into the X-ray de-partment Alan thought, At leastthis won’t hurt. And it didn’t.Then Dr. Parks, the radiologist,

“I had a knee almost like thiswhen I was 14. Got mine in a caraccident.”

Alan looked at Dr. Parks. “Butyou––you don’t limp,” he said.

“No, I don’t limp,” Dr. Parksagreed, smiling. “But it knockedme out of things for awhile. I wasafraid I’d never get to play foot-ball, and I meant to earn a col-lege scholarship that way.”

Alan leaned forward, all inter-est now. “What happened?” heasked.

“Well, I had to give up footballfor awhile,” Dr. Parks explained,“but after a few months I wasable to play again and did well onthe high school team. I didn’tmake the college team, but itwasn’t because of my knee.There were too many bigger, bet-ter players,” He grinned. “Butyou know, Alan, by that time foot-ball was not such an importantthing anymore. I still liked toplay, but my main interest was inlearning how to help people whoare sick or injured. You see, our

talked with Alan,showing him the X-rays of his knee.

“Looking atthese brings backmemories––lots ofthem,” Dr. Parkssaid. “We seem tohave something incommon, Alan.”

Alan was puzzled.“You see,” the

doctor continued,

goals change some-times as we getolder.”

“I think whatyou are saying,”Alan began, “is thatI may run again.”

Dr. Parks smiled.“That’s right, Alan.There’s a goodchance, a very goodchance. But I’malso saying that

16 17

Artwork byDebora Weber

Yellow Monster By Bruce Bash

August Cool-Down!It’s HOT outside, and here’s a chance to cool down. Take a long

look at the snow men below. There are some differences be-tween them, so be sure to notice those, along with what they are

holding or wearing. After you’ve taken a careful look, coverthem up and take a look at the questions below. No peeking now!

even if you don’t run, you’ll findother things important and sat-isfying in your life.”

“I get the message, Dr. Parks,”Alan told him. “Either way, I canbe a winner.”

The big yellow monster

That roams down the street

Just gobbles us school kids

As if we’re a treat.

It swallows us down

With an impolite “gulp,”

Then crawls to the school door

And burps us all up.

“The mailbox is for ourletters, not for your litters!”

How many snowmen aresmiling?

How many are carryingsomething?

How many have twobuttons?

How many have longnoses?

How many are wearinghats?

Now uncover the snowmen and see how you did! (All 5 correct=you’re a genius; 4 correct = excellent; 3 correct = great; 2 correct =good; 1 correct = OK; 0 correct = more practice needed.

One of thepossiblesolutions.

Jr. Detective

19

CLUBHOUSEVol. 65 No. 8

FREEPlease send me Adventures in the

Your Story Hour -- P.O. Box 15Berrien Springs, MI 49103

President - Julie Clayburn

Treasurer–Suzanne RentonBoard Chairman–Nick Wolfer

CLUBHOUSE is published 12 times yearly.Copyright by Your Story Hour, Berrien

Springs, MI 49103, a non-profit corporation.

Editor–Elaine Trumbo-RobertsProofreaders–Barb Ray, Richard Rideout, Julie Clayburn

(This issue is basically a reprint of Meeting 8, 2010 withother selections.)

Holy Bible. I am 9 years old or older.

Attention kids! Now you can receive FREEYour Story Hour CDs on the life of Jesusby taking the FREE Adventures course.Send us your name, address and age on asheet of paper, ask for the Adventures andmail your request to:

www.yourstoryhour.org

...Or Better yet, sign up online atwww.yourstoryhour.org

Just click the Adventuresbutton!

“For God loved the world somuch that he gave his onlySon. God gave is Son so thatwhoever believes in him maynot be lost, but have eternallife.” –John 3:16 ICB

IF YOU EVER FEELDISCOURAGED,READ THIS!

Wow...That’s “way cool”!

Puzzle Power

Y E R P A S S O V E R T IN G O L D P H A R A O H DW Y B A B R E P P U S P IO P A G R I E F E G Y H ER T L U L N P A M O S E SC I P E H K N D O O L B LF A G S I L V E R EW R AE N T O B E D I E N C E VA S S T S O P R O O D W ES E T I L E A R S I L S ST B C E L E B R A T I O N

FFFFFlowelowelowelowelowerrrrrs in a Js in a Js in a Js in a Js in a JaaaaarrrrrWHAT YOU WILL NEED:

1 small jar with lid (a babyfood jar works well)

Small amount of clay or playdough

Dried weeds and tiny driedflowers

Aluminum foil

HOW YOU DO IT:1. Cut a circle of foil aboutan inch bigger around thanthe lid. Lay lid inside-up onfoil and fold the foil over theedges of the lid so it overlapson the inside. Press it tightagainst the edge of the lid.

2. Fill the lid with clay orplay dough.

3. Stick the flowers anddried weeds into the clay, sothey make a pretty arrange-ment.

4. Screw the jar into placeon top of the lid, and thereyou have it––a miniatureflower garden under glass!

Artwork by Jim Bowser

“He’s going out to take a napunder the apple tree.”

“What’s the answer toproblem 12?”

Q: What do lazy dogs dofor fun?

A: They chase parked cars.