With the winter weather approaching our mornings outside are full of bright, warm sun and puddles that have captured the leaves from the trees and bushes in our yard. I have a personal connection and love of ice that stems from my childhood. I searched through the yard before the children arrived and placed a few slabs of ice on a wicker stool in the middle of the asphalt. There were different thicknesses, and various pieces that had leaves.
At first everyone simply touched them, but suddenly one fell. Crash! It shattered! Everyone seemed surprised and then SW stomped on a piece. A very satisfying crunch lit up his face and encouraged everyone else to try. Soon all of the ice pieces were being thrown on the ground and stomped upon. I too joined in, relishing that crunch and crumble of the ice and it made me curious what is so satisfying about it. I thought back to a similar feeling when popping those bubbles in bubble wrap. Is it the sound? Or the act of destruction itself? Is there a need for seemingly destroying things? Or is this 'destruction' simply exploring the qualities of what ice-ness is?
By watching how we affect the ice the boys have learned a few things:
* Ice breaks easily
*When you stomp on ice it can make smaller pieces, though sometimes it takes a few tries
*Things stick in it
* Ice is cold!
Like many of our mornings outside, this morning ended with the children walking over to me with red hands extended looking for a warm up. I talked to them about how it's so cold outside that the puddles froze! Then touching the water made our hands very cold. "Yeah! Cold!" said SW and we laughed. I rubbed and blew on anyone's fingers who wanted it before we all decided to go inside.
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