It was not entirely true that Patch knew there was food in the mountains. He had never been to the mountains. No squirrel in all the Center Kingdom, as far as he knew, had ever been to the mountains. For between the kingdom and the mountains, surrounding it on all sides like a moat around a castle, there lay a blasted concrete wasteland, as wide as fifty squirrels laid nose to tail, and horrific death machines roared up and down this wasteland at terrifying speeds, all day and night. What's more, humans and dogs often crossed between the mountains and the kingdoms. And sometimes the dogs were not leashed. A squirrel would have to be very desperate indeed to dare the wastelands. It was Toro who had told Patch about the food in the mountains. Toro was Patch's friend. And that itself was extraordinary. Patch had always talked to birds. The drey he had grown up in -- Silver's old drey, before she became leader of the Seeker clan -- had been only a few branches away from a nest of robins. Once, in early spring when he was still a baby, Patch had crawled out of Silver's drey and into the robin's nest, and had spent a whole day among the chicks before Silver returned home and retrieved him. The robin mother had been unamused by Silver's profound apologies, and even less amused when Patch had returned to her nest the very next day. Eventually Silver taught Patch to leave the robins alone, but not before he had learned how to speak Bird. Most squirrels of the Center Kingdom could say and understand a few simple things in Bird, but Patch could actually hold conversations. And so, one autumn day when a bluejay swooped past and stole an acorn out of Patch's paws, Patch shouted angrily at the thief in Bird to bring it back; and the thief, intrigued, wheeled around in midair, perched on a branch above Patch, and looked curiously down at the irate squirrel. "Thieving feather-brained no-nose hawkbait!" Patch shouted up. "Stupid blind furry groundworm!" the bluejay retorted, and began to peck at the acorn. Question: Why does the bluejay likely want the acorn? === The answer to the above question is
Bluejays like acorns
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Hmmm… that’s a hard one. At first I was going to say giving them daily chores, but the “reward” part of that has actually not been realized yet (what with all the eye rolling and such). So I will have to go with family dinners at the table. Sometimes, “dinner” is fast food, sometimes it is a meal I slaved over for hours - that part doesn’t seem to matter. Whether we are talking about our day, learning manners, having serious discussions, or laughing until we spit our drinks - it is where grow. There have been horrible nights at the table, where we shared bad news. There have been fabulous nights where we celebrated successes and talked about exciting things to come. There have been nights where the kids can see that Mom and Dad are “at odds” and nights where they see us push that aside and joke with each other for the sake of saving the evening. When they were little, we did “About Your Day” - one funny thing, one sad thing, one new thing you learned. Now, they are all teenagers, and the conversations just seem to flow, with never enough time to fit it all in before someone has to rush off to work, to study, or to get ready for bed because we are eating “after practice”. My twins will be Seniors next year, and I know that our table will look a little different from now on. But when I look at that worn oak (outdated) table, that needs refinishing in the worst way - I am grateful for the evenings there, where my kiddos learned to be a family. Don’t be misled, we are not the Cleavers. We have “Fun Friday” where Mom does not get to badger them about their table manners (ugh - they revel in this), Sometimes we eat in the living room while we watch a movie, sometimes we eat in shifts because of our schedules. However, the majority of meals have been together ~ I feel like this is a gift we gave them. Question: Who is at odds with the Dad at times? === The answer to the above question is
The mom.
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“India is OUR country” The quote we often preach but forget to deliver. I joined a club recently where I met a true Indian. I asked him about the most vivid memory of his life. One morning, as he was heading towards his office, he realized that the road he regularly takes was unusually bumpy. Upon inspection, he came to the conclusion that a truck carrying stones passed by on that road and unintentionally scattered few stones along the way. He believed that the authority of the truck will take care of this later that day. Next morning, the road situation was unchanged with stones still scattered. He parked his vehicle nearby, put on some music and started kicking the stones off the road. Within a few minutes, a school bus stopped by, students gathered around and started clapping for this true Indian. As he turned around, he said “Helping hands are better than clapping hands”. As a repercussion, the students started helping this man kick the stones off the road. A task that would have taken hours to be done by one person was completed in a couple of minutes. What a great example of team work! It was this man’s discretionary efforts that brought a change in the thought process of the students, India’s next generation. We all point fingers and blame one another for societal problems but never act upon it. If this man, a true Indian, would have just blammed the truck driver and went on his way, would the road still be cleared? The next time we point fingers at someone for a social cause, we must keep in mind that that someone is an Indian just like us. Will a true Indian point fingers at an Indian? Are we pointing fingers at ourselves? In the end, we are all in the same team. Question: What vehicle dropped stones on the road? === The answer to the above question is

The truck
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