Occassionally Gman has writing assignments in Language Arts.  He has proved to be quite the creative writer.  Here is one of his most recent compositions.  Enjoy!

The Mystery of the Missing Cakes!

Hello. So, you want to hear a story, eh? Well, I’ve got a whopper of one for you. The mystery of the missing cakes!

   It was a sunny day. I was riding my snazzy new bike I won at a raffle at the store. I carried a shoe box in a basket I attached to my bike. Inside was $7.45, just enough money to watch the new movie coming out at 4:00 today. A mystery movie. As I rode down Marlin Line St. I parked my bike by Mr. Chocolate’s bakery. I wanted to see what kind of new pastry he had baked. He always bakes something new every Saturday. Since it was only 12:30, I had plenty of time for a break and besides, I was thirsty, as I forgot my water bottle. Thankfully, Mr. Chocolate has a water fountain in his bakery.  

    Before I walked in I paused. Mr. Chocolate’s window display was covered by what looked like a bed sheet? Or maybe a curtain?  Perhaps he was preparing to unveil his new baking item. I know I’ve seen something like this before, but I can’t put my finger on it. I hurried inside. An aroma of rising dough, chocolate and sugar, and...what was that other smell? I didn’t see Mr. Chocolate anywhere. Where could he be?

    I got a drink at the fountain, then went to The Window. The Window was a big long wall of windows, going all across one end of the bakery to the other. Mr. Chocolate had keys that he could use to open a door in the wall. Behind the wall was where Mr. Chocolate baked things. His bakery area has windows all along it so that you can actually watch him work.  You can see his magical creations being formed before your very eyes!

    Mr. Chocolate was nowhere to be seen, nor his workers. I got off the stool and headed for the door. When I was about to leave, I heard a soft grumbling, coming from a dark corner. It was Mr. Chocolate!

“Oh, hello... what’s your name?” he asked.

“Chelmey,” I replied.

“Ah, Mr. Chelmey. Aren’t you the 10 year old who loves mysteries and reads books like crazy, never forgetting a single detail?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well then, I may just have a mystery for you.”

“You do?”

“Oh, yes. Could you help me?”

“You bet! But one more small detail. What do you need done?”

    Mr. Chocolate explained. I wrote everything he said in my clue journal. An hour before I arrived, Mr. Chocolate was putting in a new type of cake in his display case. It was a giant cake. It had three layers, and was very wide. It was a cake fit for a party! He had baked each layer separately. It was so big, he had to carry each layer in a box on a dolly! He brought the first layer and put it in the display case inside the display window. He did the same for the other layers. Then he got the other things that he baked as toppings. He put them by the cake. Then he went and got signs to tell about his bakery item to put on the window. He went outside and put the signs up. Then he realized he hadn’t locked the back door where he kept his keys to the display case. Oops! He came around the corner...and blacked out.

    As he woke up, he realized that he had been hit with hard with something. He felt dizzy and hot on his head...probably the same spot where he had been hit. He got up and went out the door. He realized when he came out that he had been put in a supply closet. He was able to push the door open. He looked back. Someone had locked the door, but didn’t shut it all the way!

    When he looked around, he noticed something. His keys to the display case were gone! He had rushed to the display case, only to see that someone had draped something over it and made off with the cake and toppings. He was looking at the clock when I arrived. He was mumbling the time to himself. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll get your cake back.” I looked at the time. 1:30. Looks like I wasn’t going to see that movie.

    I was starting out on my bike, when I saw commotion down the street. People were handing out fliers. Someone gave me one. “Party!” it read. “3:00 today! Games! Eat-all-you-want-buffet! Water balloon fights! Fun!!” I looked for an address. It was on the other side of town! Wait a second. Go back. Eat-all-you-want-buffet? Other side of town? Commotion? Giant cake? That’s it! This party has an all-you-can-eat-buffet. If this is on the other side of town, there must have been a lot of people that were handing out fliers. And if all of them had that kind of commotion, where do you get all the food? The cake! I had better be there.

    I decided to ride my bike there. By the time I got there, it would be time. Plus, this town has water fountains on some sidewalks, so I won’t have to worry about water. I raced for the party. It was 2:30 when I got there. I went inside. A person came up to me.

“Dollar.” he said.

“Read the fine print,” I said.

The man looked at me funny. I whipped out the flier.

“Read the fine print,” I repeated.

The man read. “I don’t see anything,” he said.

I whipped out my magnifying glass. I put it over the bottom. It read, "Anyone who arrives early can enter without admission fees.”

    The man let me in without a dollar. I realized that I was in the church I go to every Sunday! No doors were open. Then I heard noise. I went over to it. Someone opened the door. He saw me and said, “Open.” I went in. It was the sanctuary. There, I saw a gigantic table. There was food galore! Then, I saw a sheet covering something. It was big.

    Two other men carried a sign that was shaped like an arrow. It said, “Enter!” The man said, “At three o’ clock, we’ll be removing that sheet for people to see. Eat whatever you want now, but at three o’ clock, that sheet reveals something for everyone to eat. I don’t want you being the only person to see it!” He went out the door. I went outside for some fresh air. I saw a car parked by the curb down the street. No one was in it, yet no one seemed to be in the house by the curb. Hmm. What could that be? I went inside.

    Then I went into the sanctuary. I got a plate and sat down at a table. Then I turned around. I saw something weird. I went to a man. I asked where the person running this party was. I went over to the man that he pointed at.

“I know what you’re up to!” I said to the man.

“Really?” said the man in a childish tone.

“I’m not joking!” I said. “I found something that proves my hunch!”

The man looked surprised. “And what is that?” he said, laughing.

“Nothing,” I said. “And that’s what proves you guilty of stealing Mr. Chocolate’s cake!”

What did I see?

Scroll down to find out!

NICE TRY!

GO BACK AND READ THE STORY. THERE’S NO SHORTCUTS IN LIFE.

 Answer: Chelmey never saw the board for singing hymns. The board was used to cover up the display while the host stole the cake. After everyone paid admission, the host would run off with the money and get in his car. With all the people at the party, those little one-dollar bills would add up! The host was arrested, but the party went on. Everyone got their money back. The police were helpers. And who was the new host but Mr. Chocolate! His party cakes sold like a seat right behind the end-zone of someone’s favorite team in a stadium for a dollar-a-seat! And as a reward, Mr. Chocolate bought tickets for Chelmey for the mystery movie that night. By the way, the party cakes were called Party Giants. And do you recall the strange smell? That was part of a baking Party Giant. It was an edible cake topper. Mr. Chocolate was baking another Party Giant. It was your choice of flavor (hence the chocolate), with your choice of toppings (hence the chocolate and white chocolate chips) and of course, the dough for the cake. This particular cake was for an example for a Mix-and-Match display to show what the Giants looked like.

The End

Look at me go!!

So I guess when my brain starts thinking "metaphor" it just won't quit!

I had to share the most awesome metaphor I came up with yesterday while working with GMan on some Math.

He had been studying Perimeter and Area and finding both using formulas.

Now, Gman can do the math.  He can do the math all day long.  He can tell you exactly what to do to find the number you're looking for...but to explain what a FORMULA actually is?  That was a concept he just couldn't wrap his head around. 

"Symbols, letters, mold...what?!"

At the time he'd been doing a lesson and the question had asked him, "Write the formula for finding perimeter."  Well Gman was like, "say the length is 7 and the width is 5 you just double both and add them."  Yes, but that's not the formula...

We went back and forth for several minutes until finally, lightbulb!

I said, "Gman, a formula is like a mold, like a cupcake tin.  It's what you pour the batter into.  The tin, like a mold, keeps the batter a certain shape."

Gman, "okay."

Me, "You can put different things into the tin all day long but after you bake it it's still the same shape.  The end result can be different flavors and look different, but the shape is always the same.  The ingredients are the NUMBERS you put in, the tin is the FORMULA and the cupcake?  Well, it's the PERIMETER!"

Tastiest perimeter I've ever seen...

It was like a whole new Gman.  I amaze myself...and now I'm hungry.

All that Glitters Isn't Gold

I was going to write a post on the following subject a week ago but I was looking for a snazzy metaphor to tie it all together.  As sad as it is I spent several days (not all day, mind you) thinking about it and trying to come up with something.  Then Mr. Kiki helped! 

We were finishing lunch one day with an orange.  Never one for patience Kiki thought he'd get a jumpstart and stuck some peel in his mouth.  Love ya, Ki, but don't eat the peel.  Peels are for the compost pile.


Enter Lightbulb!  Fruit would be my metaphor.

As you know, some fruits (i.e. banana, kiwi, Fruit of the Loom), eating the peel does not offer a tasty experience.  In the case of an orange it's very bitter.

Such as been the case for our mission in finding a new church home.  We've visited 3 churches in the area.  I know, I know, not very many, which is why I must offer this sidenote--no, we haven't visited very many churches and what I'm about to say is in NO way meant to judge those churches, it's only my opinion and preference.  Also, please understand that our experiences is in no way indicative of all churches in the area.

That being said, I'll continue to story you with our experiences "church hopping" (to borrow a term from a friend!).

Two Sundays ago TBo looked on the Southern Baptist Convention's website to see what churches they endorsed in our area.  We chose one from that list.  Walking into the building we encountered a coffee shop and gift store on the right and the sanctuary on the left.  As with the other churches there was a very secure check-in for the boys.  While this type of thing is necessary these days, it doesn't make it any less sad.  We completed the check-in for them and passed through the doors to the children's wing (that's right, not hallway or floor...but wing).  Above the doors was a phrase painted on the wall, "KidsCrest: why kids drag their parents to church."  We took Gman to his class but not before passing a full volleyball court, art room, video game area and full snack bar.  Appealing to youngsters I'm sure.

We left Gman with an adult at the snack bar where he was able to choose a free snack for it being his first visit.

We walked down the hall to the toddler's area.  On the left were classrooms and the right a large (maybe 50x30) playground.  Inside the classroom were two adults and many children.  As is our habit for the other churches I stayed with Kiki while TBo went to the service.

I was in the nursery for probably 45 minutes when TBo came back.  We left the children's wing and into the main section of the church.  TBo entertained Kiki while I went into the last few minutes of the service.  The gentleman on the stage speaking was dressed in raggedy jeans and untucked shirt.  I only heard a few minutes of his message before a curtain was raised from behind him, the lights dimmed and a full band took the stage. 

It wasn't until we'd collected Gman and headed home that my true opinion of the church started to form.  I listened to Gman's recollection of his experience in Sunday School and TBo's experience in the service and I realized that while this church's peel was certainly appetizing...the fruit was bitter. 

TBo recalled listening to the message for 20 minutes before hearing even one Bible verse.  Gman said they didn't have a Bible story but instead just talked about how God wants you to have self-control.  He said they didn't learn any Bible verses.

The peel was all this church had.  There was a bitter fruit, no sustenance.  It just felt like the churches we've attended with their contemporary music (appropriate at times) and disregard for Scripture were competing for our "business" so to speak. 

Maybe I'm old school...but shouldn't a Bible based church have a few Bible verses in there somewhere? Shouldn't there be a Bible Story told in Sunday School?  At the very least shouldn't the pastor wear a suit (maybe that's trivial, but to me it's just plain respectful).  Give me some of that Old Time Religion...and stay out of the compost pile.

So he wrote a letter...

It's no mystery GMan LOVES to read!  He eats up books like they're candy, M&M's if you're curious.  Last Valentine's Day I bought him the first book of the Harry Potter series.  I was cautious about it's content but figured at 9 1/2 he would be fine.  He read all 7 books (4000+ pages and nearly 1,000,000 words) in less than 3 weeks.  To say the least he was hooked.

Just prior to moving we discovered another series. Charlie Bone and the Magician Series, by Jenny Nimmo.  GMan was hooked again!  They are somewhat similar to Harry Potter, although Grant will tell you they're very different.

GMan loved the HP books a lot.  He also loved every movie.  He even spent his birthday money buying them all and often has HP movie marathon days!  So much did he love them that he decided he would write a screenplay, only he was going to base the books on the Charlie Bone series.

I encouraged him to do so but carefully told him he'd need to write a letter to Ms. Nimmo asking permission to base his movie on her books.  Quickly, and without dismay, he composed this letter:

Dear Miss Nimmo,

      I love your Charlie Bone books. In fact, I have considered to possibly go to the big leagues and turning paper into hologram. I am asking for permission to write a major motion picture to go on the big screen. If you give me permission, I will try my very hardest to make this movie amazing. In fact, my goal is to beat Harry Potter by great amounts. The books and movies of Charlie Bone will fly in and knock Harry off the charts, with a LONG way down. Don’t worry, he won’t be going up. He’ll be falling down a dark abyss! The movie will be outstanding! Even though I am 10 years old, I will keep trying to put Charlie Bone on top. So please, will you let me fire a shot? I will start with the very first in the series, Midnight for Charlie Bone. If that works, the bullet is shot and isn’t NEAR stopping. You made the bones, and I’ll make the muscles and joints. The movie makers will make the skin. I considerably ask for permission. Please?

Your Biggest Fan,



We mailed the letter before Thanksgiving and forgot about it...until today.

GMan's reaction to the letter:

THE LETTER:

Be on the lookout for GMan's screenplay.  It'll hit a theater near you...don't forget the M&M's.



What We Did Yesterday

It was another beautiful and unseasonably warm day in January. We took full advantage!

Winter Fun

After several days of wonderful mild temperatures...

winter finally arrived today.

We put the snow to good scientific use today.

We studied energy (potential and kinetic), trajectory principles and friction...

That's right...we went SLEDDING!

We had some trouble at first...





But we figured it out!

Dear Winter,

Bring it!



My Blog...My Opinion

So I started this blog...and I never wanted it to turn into something that people didn't want to read.  For instance, I didn't want to get on some wild political rampage--because believe me, I could--and lose respect and readers etc. 

But then I had a thought...

Actually, I read an article about some celebrity that had issued an apology for something they said.  Apparently they made a statment, probably on Twitter, and then they were lambasted for said opinion.  They later came out and said (and I paraphrase), "I apologize for such and such opinion, people should be free to do such and such and I'm sorry my statement offended anyone."  You know the story.

Now, I'm not a sympathizer of celebrities.  I've never wanted to be one (although I wouldn't mind one of their bank accounts) and I certainly don't want (and most times don't approve of) their lifestyles.  But I do believe they deserve to have an opinion. 

Why do they have to apologize for something they did or said?  Why can't they endorse a political candidate, political movement, lifestyle or even brand of bubblegum without being virtually drawn and quartered?

Even if I don't agree with their opinion, I'm glad they have one.  I understand that if they aren't loved by everyone they won't make money...and I'm sure their ultimate goal is to sustain the lifestyle they've built.  But seriously, if I was a celebrity I'd probably be hated because I'm not going to become someone you like because that makes me money.  Who wants to be something they're not?  Who wants to walk around on egg shells always afraid you'll say the wrong thing? 

So I guess the same goes for me.  I want to be able to throw stuff on here and not worry about offending someone with my thoughts.  It's my blog party and I'll cry if I want to--because believe me, I could.

Oh, and Kelly Clarkson...if you're reading this...YOU GO GIRL!