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1.10.26 - Part 2 · Children's Hour

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Speaker 1: Hello, and welcome to Radio I Shared Story Hour as
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a REMINDERI is a reading service intended for people who
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are blind or have other disabilities that make it difficult
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for them to reprint a material. Today we will be
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reading from various books on winter. Your reader today is Diane.
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We will get back to the book that we could
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not finish last time, called The Mitten. It was published
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by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic, and it has
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a copyright year of two thousand and nine. It is
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a retelling by Jim Ellsworth. It's an old folk tale
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that was believed to originated in Ukraine. Said the little
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mouse in a teeny tiny voice, let me come in.
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No rooms, said the bear. No room, said the fox.
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No rooms, said the rabbit. No rooms, said the squirrel.
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Go away, please, begged the little mouse. My toes are
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coat of ice. Your min looks so cozy and warm
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toes would feel so nice. We can't, said the bear.
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Too full, said the fox. No way, said the rabbit. Impossible,
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said the squirrel. Go away, please, said the little mouse.
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I'm just a little mouse. Oh okay, said the bear.
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Oh okay, said the fox. Oh okay, said the rabbit. Oh, okay,
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said the squirrel, you can come in. And they all
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held their breath while the little mouse carefully squeezed into
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a teeny tiny spot. And for a minute all was well,
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until suddenly the bear and the fox, and the rabbit
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and the squirrel all had to take a great, big,
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deep breath of air, and as they did, the mitten
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burst apart and spilled them all out into the snow.
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What a shame, said the bear. What a shame, said
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the fox. What a shame said the rabbit. What a
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shame said the squirrel. Who it is, said the little mouse,
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A terrible, terrible shame. Then one by one, the mouse,
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the bear, the fox, the rabbit, and the squirrel all
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went off to find another place to warm their toes.
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In the morning, the little boy and his grandmother went
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out looking for the lost mitten. Soon they came upon
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the bits and pieces of yarn lying on the snow.
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What could have happened, asked the little boy. I have
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no idea, said the Graham, but don't worry. I can
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knit to another. And because she loved him, that's exactly
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what she did. Our next book is titled A Wonderful Winter,
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and it was published by Random House Picture back Book,
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an imprint of Random House for children's Books. It has
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a copyright year of twenty twenty five and it was
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written by Nicole Johnson. Snow is falling in kingdoms all
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around the world, turning big cities and small towns alike
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into winter wonderlands. Snow White glides on an ice covered
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lake and joining the crisp winter breeze. Marauda loves winter
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in don Brulch. After the first snow every year, she
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grabs her sled and heads outside. When her brothers are
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old enough, she brings them with her, the triplets laughing
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sut with joy as they fly down the fluffy wide heels.
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Once Snoke coats the kingdom, Rapunzel teaches the children how
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to build snow men. Soon the whole square is full
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of jolly brown men covered in hats and scarfs. Even
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warriors deserve to have fun. On snow days. Milan pauses
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her usual training for a very special exercise, a snowball fight.
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Ariel loves the holiday season. She helps decorate the castle
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for Christmas with red ribbons, green garland, and ornaments in
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every color of the rainbow. The last decoration is a
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big beautiful tree. Ariel picks out the perfect finishing touch,
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a starfish tree topper. After their decorin is done, Ariel,
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Eric and their friends spur Christmas joy around their town
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by singing carols. Ariel's beautiful voice is so loud that
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some of her underwater friends come to listen. Briar Rose's
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favorite winter tradition is decorating holiday cookies. They come in
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all shapes and sizes, and she decorates them using yummy,
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colorful frosting. She shares her cookies with Flora, Fauna, and Meriwether.
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They enjoy their tasty treats by the fire, telling stories
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late into the night. Belle's favorite Christmas tradition is reading
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stories with their friends. On Christmas Eve, everyone gathers in
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the library to hear Belle read her most beloved tales.
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When Christmas Morning finally arrives, Teana and her friends give
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each other gifts. Tianna puts a lot of thought into
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each one she gives. Gives her way to show her
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friends how much she cares. Winters. When one year ends
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and another begins, Cinderella throws a big party in the
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castle courtyard to celebrate the new year. For special surprise.
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She organizes a fireworks show for everyone to enjoy. Ray
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and her friends love to celebrate Lunar New Year together
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each winter. This year, they happily lead the Lunar New
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Year Parade with their friends and their family. No matter
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how you celebrate the winter season, the best way to
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do it with those is with those you love. What
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is your favorite part of winter? Our next story is
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titled The Snowy Nap and it was published by GP.
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Hutnam's Sons, an imprint of Penguin Random House. It has
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a copyright year of twenty eighteen and it was written
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by Jan Brett Young. Hedgey sniffed the chili wind. Snow
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is on the way. He thought, I'll just take a
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last ramble around the farm. He did not want to
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miss a moment. He could barely keep his eyes open
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as he walked. The hens noticed at once time for
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Betty bye. That cackled. Won't be long before you have
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to hibernate and our coop will be bedazzled by icicles
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in a sleepy days, Hedgey trundled past the pond. The
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geese honked goodbye until spring. We'll think of you as
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we play slip and slide across the pond ice is
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already starting to freeze. Head she came to the sheep
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shed ninety nine the sheep bad. One of the sheep
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had seen hedgehogs on the farm head for their cozy dins.
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Year after years, winter arrived. She also was ready to
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tell Hedgy what he would miss. I'll soon see the snowman,
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Lisa makes, she said. The billy goat overheard and crunched
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across the frozen filled to add, as usual, you will
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miss winter blue time, when the sun sets and the
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snowy farm appears in a shade of blue. The pig
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watched Heedgy stop for a big yawn. Have a good
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winter sleep, she oinked, If only I could have a
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few snowflakes for you. No two are alike. When the
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pony trotted up, Hedgie guessed what he wanted to say,
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Sleep well, he needed. If you hear bells in your dreams,
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it will be me pulling my sleigh. That was the
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last straw. I don't want to sleep on winter like
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last year, protested Hedgie. I want to see eyed sickles
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and snowmen, snowflakes and pond ice. I want to hear
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sleigh bells. Before Hedgey could yawn again, he decided to
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turn around and step up for the winter. The night
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grew frosty coat. Must stay awake, Must stay awake, Must
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stay awake to see winter. Hegy shivered and his eyes closed.
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From the farmhouse window, Lisa's saw a still shape outside
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in the code. Poor little hedgehog is frozen stiff, she cried.
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She bundled him up and brought him inside. Lisa put
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Hedgey in a tea cozy and gave him a spot
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by the window. That was a close call, she said,
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a snowstorm is on the way. You better stand in
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the house and warm up. To Hedge's delight, the next morning,
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he saw the world outside shimmering with snow. The old
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chicken coop sparkled like a palace. Every day he watched
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from different windows, and new wintry scenes appeared. The pond
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froze into a shining mirror. Lisa twirled on her skates
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as the goose and the gander slid to keep up
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to Hedgey's amazement. One day, Lisa rode great battles of snow.
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Before he knew that he was looking at his first snowman.
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He was getting sleepier, but each morning held a new surprise.
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The little head Chog was dozing when he heard the
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tinkling of bells. He tried with all his might and
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opened his eyes. There was the pony pulling a sleigh.
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Lisa made a snowball and tossed it in his direction.
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Kapoof Hedgee slept later every day. One day he awoke
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to see flowers of frost decorating his window. The trees
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looked like lace against the sky. I have truly seen winter,
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was Hedgee's last thought. As he nodded back to sleep.
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Lisa knew it was time leaving the door jar. She
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crayd a little hedgehog. You belong in the wild, she
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whispered in his ear. As she carried him through the drifts.
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She crouched by his burrow and nestled him in sight.
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Sweet dreams, little adventurer, she said. Just then she knows
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The front door was swinging on its hinges. Squawks and
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rubbles were coming from inside. He disappeared through the doorway
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and saw animals higgly piggly making a commotion in her house.
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Each one was thinking, I'll see winter from a nice
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warm house. Out and out scadado, She laughed, don't you
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know this is not where you live? Lisa was showing
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the last mouse from the house's Hedgey snug in his burrow,
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fell into a deep sleep. He was dreaming about icicles
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and snowmen, snowflakes and pond ice. It was a long,
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snowy nap. Our next book is titled The Hat and
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it was published by G. P. Putnam's Sons, a division
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of Penguin Young Reader's Group. It has a copyright ear
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of nineteen ninety seven and it was written by Jan Brett.
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Winter was on the way. Lisa took her wool and
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clothes out of the chest and carried them outside. She
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was hanging them up in the fresh air when a
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strong wind blew one of her stockings off. The lying
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curious Hedgie found it and poked his nose in. When
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he pulled it out, the stocking was stuck on his prickles.
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How embarrassing, Hedgie thought. The mother hen came by with
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her chicks. Cackle cackle. She clucked and laughed, what's that
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on your head, Hedgie? Why it's my new hat, he
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told her. Isn't it beautiful? The mother hen cocked her
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head as if she had an idea, and off she ran.
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Hedgie saw the noisy gander looking down at him. Hong kong,
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Ho ho ho. The gander laughed, Look at that the
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hedgehog has flipped his gizzard laughed today, gander, But tomorrow,
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when it rains, my hat will keep me dry. The
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gander thought for a moment, and off he ran. The
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barnquat was watching from a tree as Hedge. He tugged
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at the stalking Now he called down, What a silly
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looking hedgehog you are with that thing on your head.
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But my ears will be warm in a snowstorm. Hm,
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pard the cat, and off he ran. The barn dog
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and her puppies found Hedgie in a patch of brambles. Hedgie,
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is that a hat you're wearing? How funny you look,
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she barked, and her puppies yepped and giggled. But I'll
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be cozy and dry when it snows, Hedge said. The
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farm dog's ears perked up, and off she ran. Wink wink,
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the piglet squilled. What are you up to, Hedgie? The
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mama pig asked, making sure my hat doesn't fall off
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If an icy wind blows up, I see, said the
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mama pig, and off she ran, Hedgie, What is that
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ridiculous thing on your head? The pony snorted a Hedgy,
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that was the last straw. It's my hat, of course.
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Don't you know that everyone should wear a hat in
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winter when it's cold and snowy, Hedgeye shouted. The pony
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looked startled. Hedgie was usually so friendly, and off he ran.
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Hedgie just wanted to be alone. He was tired of
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everyone laughing at him, and with this thing on his head,
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he wouldn't even fit in his den. He didn't see
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Lisa running after him, the other stalking in her hand.
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Come back, you silly hedgehog, she called. Oh no, hedge
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Hedgey thought, even the girl is laughing at me. Lisa
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caught up and pulled her stalking off Hedgey's head. You
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ridiculous little hedgehog, she laughed. Don't you know that animals
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don't wear clothes? Hedgie headed first Din and Lisa started
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back toward the clothesline. That's when she saw all of
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her missing woolens. The animals had taken them, and each
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one was thinking, now I am wearing a magnificent hat,
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Lisa was still chasing them when Hedgie reached his din.
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How ridiculous they look. Don't they know that animals should
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never wear clothes. Our next story is titled I Don't
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Want to Hibrinate and it was published by Henry Holt
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and Company with the copyright Youar of twenty twenty five.
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The author of her book is Anna Alci Sun Snowfall,
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Icy Air, cosey burrow, dug with care, three, Prepare for
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winter rest Mommy Daddy, little tests, yawning parents, tuck her in,
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pull up blankets to her chin, Close your Eyes's code.
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It's like I don't want to hibernate. Bedtime books will
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do the trick. Look your favorites, take your pick. Daddy
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reads until snore. Snore tiptoes out and shuts the door.
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Suddenly a thumpity thump blin, sprying jump. I'm not tired.
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I feel great. I don't need to hibernate. Here's some cocoa,
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warm and smooth, so relaxing, sure to soothe. Don't you
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budge now? Not a peep test? I mean it. Go
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to sleep close to midnight in the gloom patches. Only
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so is Kate. They won't let me hibernate, gentle BackRub
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herbal tea, lullabies in harmony, Mommy Daddy, try it all.
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Finally the eyelids fall very late, a blast of their
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wosh swosh burr. Loas to do and lots to make.
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There's no time to hibernate. Mommy Daddy, bleary eyed, wobblestagger
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side by side. We're exhausted, We are done, see you later.
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You have fun tests so thoughtful tucks them in, pulls
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up blankets to their chins. Not a peep now, no debate,
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sweet dreams go on. Hibernate. Birds are chirping almost on
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droopy islets, stretching Yon sleepy head begins to spend fight
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it fight, it won't give in. I'm not sleepy, I'm awake,
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I will never high. Three months later, dozing deep, ringing deep,
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mommy daddy's stretch and shake. Come on, Tessy, wakey, wake
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time to see if spring is near? Will our shadows
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show this year? But tess exhausted, snores away, almost missing
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Groundhog day? Okay, okay, I'm up now. Our next book
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is simply called Winter, and it was published by Child's
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Play Limited. It has a copyright year of twenty fifteen
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and the author is Allie Busby Twinter. When my toasterter
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coat in the morning and the sun gets subplate, spiky
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ice sparkles in the sunshine, It's time for snowsuits, big
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boots and funny ads. There are snowflakes and snow fights,
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frozen fingers and soggy socks. There are bowls of soup
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to warm us up, and seeds for the hungry birds.
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We play indoor games and snug indoor days like hide
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and seek and dressing up. We watched the stars come
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out one by one, share bedtime stories, and snuggle up warm.
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The next set of books are about a new year
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Lunar New Year, and our first one is titled New Year.
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It was published by Audaina Libre Books and imprintive Graystone
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kid Books. It has a copyright ear of twenty nineteen
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and the author is May Zion. Every New Year's Eve,
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I miss my daughter. My child has become an adult
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so quickly. In France, she studies, she writes fluent in French.
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Now she translate literally classics like sant Exou Priest, the
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Little Prince and winds, Sand and Stars into Chinese, and
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she reads in English, too, going so easily from one
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language to another, Merrily, she weaves her way through Paris's
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four seasons. She didn't come home last summer, nor did
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she come this winter. She should have come back to
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Beijing for Lunar New Year. She could have spent Christmas
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abroad and still be been home in time for the
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Spring festival. Would have been perfect, the best of East
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and West. Our home would have been livelier, more bustling.
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I would have had an excuse to buy fireworks. I
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could have seen her with her hands covering her ears,
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and I care for lit the fuse with an incense stick.
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But I must remind myself of what a long journey
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it would be. Even if she wanted to come home,
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she would have to learn to give up on the idea.
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Oh the distance, the journey. Every time I go to
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visit her, I feel anxious to be so high up
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in the sky, past the deserts of Mongolia, through the
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clouds of Russia. I finally enter European airspace. The dark
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night and the bright day rise and fall in mere
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dozen hours. My now grown up child picks me up
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at the Charles S. Deigol airport. She sees the expression
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on me ashen face that looks so bewildered by the
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sun and the moon. It's not only how far the
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trip would be. I think she must also feel that
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she is a grown up. She now belongs in the
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place where she lives. She has married a Frenchman, Sylvan.
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She shops for groceries and cooks their meals. During the day,
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she strows down the street outside her home. At night,
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she turns into sleep on their bed. It won't do
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any It won't do any more to be constantly running
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to mother and father's site, but make her feel as
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though she hasn't grown up, as though she doesn't have
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what it takes to be independent to live a life
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of her own with her new husband. After all, now
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she can stand at her own apartment window and miss
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her far away parents, perhaps feeling nostalgic for innocent, funny
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childhood as to the frenchness of her Parisian life. Perhaps
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she believes that this is a sign of her maturity
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and their parent's heart should be at peace. Daughter. I
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think you might be right after all, But it's New
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Year's even I still miss you. I wonder what you
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and Sylvan are eating at this moment. What are you
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craving this New Year's eve? It makes me sad to
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think of you roasting a chicken and some potatoes for
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the two of you. No matter that you are a
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good cook, that meal is simply too meager. You've learned
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how to make dumplings, but that isn't enough. I wish
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there were a lavish feast on the table in front
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of you. The feast is the hallmark of a new year.
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It is a necessary ingredient for summoning joy and holiday spirit.
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The feast must begin with cold appetizers and in with
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spring ROAs dipped in vinegar. There must be egg dumplings
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tofu skin, roast, and spinach in a castrow. Then our
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hearts contentment drifts up with the steam from the castro
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and all worries give way. But daughter, you have none
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of that there. That's why every New Year's Eve I
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sit before such a billow of steam, with my heart
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filled with thoughts of longing, of missing you. When I
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come to see you in Paris, at your home and
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Avenue Victor Hugo, I watch you cooking French dishes and
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Italian pasta. Though it stands me to see you work
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so hard for such a simple meal. It also somehow
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puts my heart at ease. You really are all grown up.
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You are no longer a child in your home, in
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that land full of sundry flavors. In your journey, you
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have learned to accept new things, acquire new choices, and
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new excitements. You are no longer that maddline lover in
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search of lost time. Under an unfamiliar tree. You pick
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a fruit which you cannot name, and smile happily. You
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have grown to love French baguettes and cheeses. You eat
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Italian pieces with relish, seemingly ready to offer speech in
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their praise. Daughter. That's the way. That's what growing up
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is all about. That's what it means to live a full,
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rich life. The sign over the door of your childhood
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home and our familiar dining table will be in your
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memories forever. But to be living at a distant address
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with your little dining table is a sign of your accomplishment.
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It's a necessary part of life. What makes me feel
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proud and honored when I think of you. It's the
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same sort of pride and honor I felt when I
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passed Montag's bronze statue as I stepped into your Sorbonne campus.
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It's true. You are no longer the one year old
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baby who slept on the couch when the dults were
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watching the Spring Festival celebration on TV, wishing my gee's
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crosswalk comedy would never end. You are no longer that
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four year old child carrying the big bunny lantern your
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cousin gave you careful to keep the candle a light
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on your way to your kindergarten. You're no longer that
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seven year old hugging the big stepped beer that I
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bought you from the shop on Zonghey Road, staggering under
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its weight. You're no longer eighteen year old praying for
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a high college Interix exam score who rang to the
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temple in the days to burn. Instance. Everything has changed.
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You sit before the window of your apartment on Avenue
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Victor Hugo, wondering what other French books you could translate
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and recite for the Chinese people, for me, for readers
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who want more than mere flat words on a page.
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You are no longer what you called yourself a kite
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floating in your north facing classroom. Now your window faces south,
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the donst slight and the turquoise sky appear before you
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as you lean into its infinity. But Daughter, I still
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miss you, almost dreading New Year's Eve when you calm
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me in the middle of the feast, and that delicate,
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still childlike voice you say, Daddy, are you eating New
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Year's feast? What dishes did you make? I want your
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cry because they know that you still miss spending the
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holiday at home. You missed the crowded table filled with food,
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the spring rose and the cast row behind the velvesteam.
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No one can see the tears in my heart. Daughter,
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It's New Year's Eve. Make yourself a feast and enjoy
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it with Sylvan. Happy New Year. This concludes the Children's
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Story Hour for today. Please join us next time as
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we will read more stories, fables and fairy tales. Thank
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you for listening and please stay tuned for the Lexton
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Hair Leader here on Radio I