Reading Toys For Children - Alvin And The Chipmunks 2 Mcdonalds Toys
Reading Toys For Children
- For Children (Hungarian: A Gyermekeknek) is a cycle of short piano pieces composed by Bela Bartok. The collection was originally written in 1908-11, and comprised 85 pieces which were issued in four volumes.
- a datum about some physical state that is presented to a user by a meter or similar instrument; "he could not believe the meter reading"; "the barometer gave clear indications of an approaching storm"
- Written or printed matter that can be read
- a particular interpretation or performance; "on that reading it was an insult"; "he was famous for his reading of Mozart"
- The action or skill of reading written or printed matter silently or aloud
- Used to convey the specified quality of such written or printed matter
- the cognitive process of understanding a written linguistic message; "his main reading was detective stories"; "suggestions for further reading"
- An object, esp. a gadget or machine, regarded as providing amusement for an adult
- An object for a child to play with, typically a model or miniature replica of something
- A person treated by another as a source of pleasure or amusement rather than with due seriousness
- (toy) plaything: an artifact designed to be played with
- (toy) dally: behave carelessly or indifferently; "Play about with a young girl's affection"
- (toy) a nonfunctional replica of something else (frequently used as a modifier); "a toy stove"
Reading Program = Life Changing
Today I was at the library.
I was suppose to be there for a quick moment.
I looked around for a few minutes and found a book that I had been planning on reading.
I quickly check my book out and was reading to go but my Mom was still looking so I waited.
Finally after digging through many gardening magazines she had found what she wanted and we made out way back to the front.
As I stepped to the counter I let out a sigh of frustration.
A little girl and her mother were having a conversation with the librarian.
I stood patiently then took notice to the young child.
She had sandy brown hair and blue ocean eyes.
"What kind of prizes do I get!!?!" She spoke loudly to her mother. She lifted her little arms up and handed the librarian a paper full of stickers that had been placed to mark the number of books she read.
I began to watch her as she spoke quickly in excitement. Her bright blue eyes, stunning little smile, and dimples caught my attention. She was participating in the children's Summer Reading Program. I became intoxicated with her joy as I watched her reach over the counter to claim her small prizes.
I looked away trying to remain discreet in my interest in her child like excitement.
But suddenly I heard her mother's strong voice relay words to the librarian.
Words that pierced my heart.
Words that I never understood as a child.
Words I could never imagine linked to my name.
Words that forced my eyes back onto the child, no older than four years of age.
Her mother had stroked her hair and looked into the librarians eyes.
The young girl mesmerized with a toy in her little hands.
The mother spoke with strength that I know had been practiced.
Strength she gained from a thousand wounds she had been given.
But strength that was just enough to hold a smile.
"We just got back from chemo." Her mother said.
I stood silenced. Sobered.
For a moment everything in my world froze.
Frozen for this child I do not have a name for.
A child who stole my heart in an instant.
I stood frozen thinking to myself.
God must have plucked the wings off of an angel and thrown her down to earth just to show me true strength.
I must have stared for too long. The look on my face must have pierced her.
But I began to exam the child. Noticing her hair, clearly a wig.
And all of the little imperfections that seemed so perfect at first sight.
My eyes must have been too heavy on her back. She danced around the ceramic floor then noticed me. She stopped spinning and looked me in the eye. And what she did next stole the air from my lungs.
She smiled.
Her dimples, perfect. Her grin an instant liberation.
She stared at me for a moment and continued on with her angelic smile.
I forced a smile for her and politely turned away.
A solemn moment. A little bit to much for me and my emotions.
I turned again toward her she became distracted with the "adult" talk her mother was having with the librarian.
Quickly the smile slipped from her face. The ocean blue waters ready to overflow down her cheeks.
"Mommy! Do I have to go back there?" The fear apparent on her face as she wrapped her small fingers around her mother's.
Her mother bend down. The strength left her, shattered from her child's fear. "No... No, honey we don't have to go back for another four months." She spoke apologetically waiting for her child's response. Praying inside that this would be acceptable.
For the moment the child became content, even happy.
I wanted to learn her name. To tell her that I cared. But I knew that was too much.
So young but each day is a war.
Not a war against another child for a toy.
Not a war for attention.
But a war for her very own life.
A war which holds a small victory each night.
A victory for her mother as she presses her lips to her child's chubby little cheek at night.
A victory that means another breath of air.
A victory that means she will have a tomorrow.
She is only a child fighting a war we all fear.
But she is brave. A little angel that God sent down to show us.
Life no matter how hard is good.
Life is never to be taken for granted.
For every day is a war.
Four months from today I know I will be praying for this nameless blue eyed, sandy brown haired girl. I will remember her and the war she has won so far. Because today she healed the blind and opened my eyes. I won't forget that life is good no matter how hard it gets.
I won't forget her.
I won't forget.
~Janey Lu
A young woman reads a new book at an orphanage in Kabul, Afghanistan on Wednesday, February 2, 2011. Clothing, school supplies and toys collected through the Toys For Tots program, as well as personal donations, were handed out by Marines stationed at U.S. Embassy Kabul.
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