Apples. Grow.

A few nights ago, Ethan commented to me that he'd had absolutely no luck getting Julia to tell him anything about her school day.  Apparently, when he asked her what she learned about, she suddenly decided she needed to talk like a two-year-old.

ETHAN: Julia, what did you do in school today?
JULIA: APPLES!
ETHAN: What about apples?
JULIA: GROW!

That was the extent of what she told him.  However, when she returned home from school with the following project, I discovered that she had actually pretty much summed up what they were learning about:

She did decide to elaborate a bit more on apple growth while at home, mainly through artwork.  I guess making an apple booklet at school left her aching for more, because she sat down at home, of her own accord, and made her own book about the life cycle of an apple.

The cover page demonstrates the apple seeds (bottom), the buds sprouting, the blossom, and finally, the red apples.  (For some reason, the apples seem to have defied gravity and floated up into the stratosphere like balloons.)

Page two shows us the little green apple, not yet ripened into its full red color.  I like how Julia chose to keep most of the page completely blank to fully demonstrate just how small the newly-growing apple is in terms of its surroundings.

Page three gives us the next big development: the little green apple has now turned red!

And finally, on the last page, the apples are fully grown.  They also seem to have made a tree finally materialize.  It's interesting how in Julia's world of science the apples initially grow out of thin air and sort of float in an abyss of white, and then - BAM! - the apple tree magically appears once the apples are ripe for the pickin'. 

The apple book is not the only seasonal home art project Julia recently worked on.  She also made this super scary pumpkin mask:

Madeleine's was creepier:

And speaking of Madeleine, she was a total chatterbox last night as I attempted to give her some good-night snuggles.  As we lay in her bed, she broke the silence to give me some important information about hide-and-seek.


MADELEINE: Mommy?  In Hide-and-Seek you go "One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Twen..."  Mommy?  What's the number that's TWEN?
ME: Twenty?
MADELEINE: No!  Not TWENTY.
ME: Uh... ten??
MADELEINE: (brightly) Oh, yes!  Ten!  "Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty.  Ready or not, here I come!"

Fortunately, despite her need to chatter about hide-and-seek and various other non-bedtime topics, I was able to leave her room while she was still awake, and when I checked back twen minutes later, she was completely zonked, dreaming whatever bizarre dreams go through that wacky head of hers.