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Jot

A Magazine for Little Ones

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Contents! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Editor’s Letter Fruit Mucky Mouth Pie Recipe Grow Your Own Animals Let’s Pretend to be Tigers How Many Ladybirds? Buggy’s Big Bug Shop Fun Games for Indoors The Fortune Tellers ... Spectacular Science The Great Outdoors Let’s Play a Game A Story: The Heron Word of the Month A Thank You


Editor’s Letter. Hello Girls and Boys! Welcome to the first issue of Jot magazine. From yummy recipies, outdoor activities and bedtime stories, Jot will turn you into a busy bumble bee! We hope you enjoy what we have made for you and that you spend plenty of time reading Jot with the people you love.


Now, do you like nature? We do. We like it so much we want to hear all about your adventures in the big outdoors for our next issue. So if you feel like sending us a letter, ask a guardian to visit JOT.com for the address! Until next time, Happy Reading!

Lotte


Fruit


Lovely, Jubbly Fruit! Fruit is a great source of fibre and natural sugars. They come in all shapes and sizes, colours and flavours. How many different kinds of fruit can you think of?


Mucky Mouth Pie Recipe Let’s get our aprons on and bake a tasty treat, using Blackberries! You will need 350g of all butter puff pastry 1 egg 200g of caster sugar 2 large Granny Smith apples Juice of half a lemon 600g of Blackberries 1 heaped teaspoon of fresh mint and finally... an adult!


First, turn your oven up to 190 degrees and line a baking tin of around 20 cm with puff pastry. For the filling, place the thinly chopped apples in a bowl and add half the sugar and lemon juice. Toss the mix and leave it to rest for 20 minutes, then spoon the slices into the tin. Add the blackberries and sprinkle the remaining sugar and juices from the apple mix on top. Roll over the remaining pastry and lay it on top of your delicious blackberry mix, sealing the edges as you go. Be sure to cut a cross into your pastry lid and brush a whisked egg over the top. Cook for 25 minutes. After it’s golden, leave the pie to cool down. Then dig in and get messy!


Grow Your Own


Carrots Grab a big rectangular pot and fill it with well mixed soil. Sow your little carrot seeds 1cm down and 15cm apart, and place on a sunny windowsill where you can regularly water them. Cover them with a cloth to protect them if bad weather arrives! Your carrots should be ready in 3 to 4 months. How about carrot soup for lunch?


Animals We share the world with many animals. They should be respected and most importantly, enjoyed! Next time you go to the park, how many animals can you find? What is your favorite animal, and why?


We are rather fond of bears. Brown bears, polar bears, teddy bears! We like them because they are big and fluffy. But be careful... not all like to be cuddled!


Let’s Pretend To Be Tigers! Tigers love to run around and play (if they’re not hunting for food or taking a nap!) Why dont you make some paper masks like Matty did, and be your very own streak of tigers with your friends before dinner? After devouring your meal, how about a game of sleeping lions...


A Poem: Buggy’s Big Bug Shop. There were creepers that were crawling And sneakers that were sprawling There were sleepers that were snoring In the Buggy’s Big Bug Shop.

Sid saw beady eyeballs balling This blonde boy, the bugs adoring, Their unblinking seemed like scheming Like they’d hatched and planned a plot

Green grasshoppers cheerily chirping Mauve cockroaches slowly slurping Ansy ants worriedly working Rhino beetles fit to pop.

So he over turned their casings Started stomping stamping slapping Crushing squeezing trapping clapping He just wanted them to stop.

Croaking crickets craftily creaking Dumb dung beetles rolling drolly Skinny stick insects insisting They were twigs when they were not

But he could not stop them coming Hissing, screeching, buzzing, humming Flying, jumping, crawling, creeping Up his laces, up his socks


In his ears earwigs were wigging, Up his bum beetles were digging On his skin the ants were nipping The insects biting wouldn’t stop! When his mum came looking, needing Her son who had just been feeding All the bugs inside the bug store All she found were his blond locks So if you go into a bug shop Keep your hands beside your sides And don’t disturb the bugs there Because they’re very much alive! Written by Seki Lynch.


Fun

Games


For Indoors


The Fortune Tellers...


You Will Need Scissors Colouring pencils A pen A large, square piece of paper An adult!

Fold the paper into fourths Unfold the paper Fold over the four corners evenly into the middle Fold into fourths again Flip over the paper Fold over the corners on the new side of the paper Fold into fourths one last time Fit you fingers into the slits Open You can now colour each outside section differently, put numbers on the inside sections and put fortunes/answers to questions on the inside tabs. Now lets amaze everyone with them!


You will need A boiled egg A glass bottle (with a tall neck) Matches An adult


Spectacular Science Although science can be really complicated, it often produces the most magical results. For example, how do you get an egg into a bottle without touching or breaking said egg? Science shows you how! Ask an adult to boil an egg and peel the shell off when it cools (be careful not to break it). Then ask an adult to light a match and drop it in the bottle. Repeat four times. Quickly place the egg over the mouth of the bottle and watch it get sucked in! Who said science wasn’t fun?


The Great Outdoors


We love nothing more than a splash in the rain, so it’s a good job we live in England! No matter what the weather, nature should be explored. There is so much fun to be had outside, whether your climbing trees or playing with conkers. So put your wellies on and let’s make a mud pie!


Let’s Play Swinging Statue With a group of 3 or more, choose one person to be ‘It’. He or she holds each of the players’ hands in turn and swings them in a circle, promptly letting go. The players then need to freeze as soon as they can and hold their pose for as long as possible. Whoever falls out of place first, is ‘It’ And so the game continues.


A Game Red Light/Green Light With a group of 3 or more, choose one person to be the traffic light. The players then stand a distance behind the traffic light who is turned the other way. The traffic light then shouts ‘green light!’ and the players move closer until ‘It’ shouts ‘red light!’. All players must stop in their tracks. If the traffic light sees anyone move, they are sent to the back. Whoever reaches the traffic light first, wins!


A Story: The Heron.


Once upon a time on its way to a pond of frogs, was a heron, carrying a toad and this heron, carrying this load was named Herb. Herb was the son of Jill and Scott Heron and his story starts a few months earlier when his parents gave him the talk about the birds and the bees. “Basically” said Scott Heron with a sigh. . . “Some birds-”   “-Namely storks” chip-churped Jill Heron,   “Storks, indeed” continued Scott Heron, somewhat ruffled “Storks have a special relationship with bees. What happens is bees go from flower to flower collecting pollen and the flower, because of its shape, acts like a satellite, which hears everything people say. So when two people want a baby, the bee hears because he’s in the flower and so the bee buzzes off to the storks to tell the stork who wants a baby. The stork then flies up to the clouds, picks up one of the sleeping babies and delivers it to the families. Of course, because of the amount of people, and animals that want babies, there is a waiting list. For humans it is around nine months.


“Right” said Herb. “And what if I wanted to be a . . .” “They are called DelBirds”, said Jill Heron anticipating his question, “And you can only be one if you are a stork.”   “Why?” replied Herb.   “Because, that’s just the way things are. We aren’t allowed to know too much” said Jill Heron, “All I really know is it involved an old stork ancestor named Margery.” “But that’s not fair,” cried Herb.    “Maybe not,” said his father, “but it is how things work.”      Feeling put out, Herb went to see his friend Bill, a young stork who lived in the area. They had become friends after a competition to see who could catch the most worms to eat. Bill had won. He was stretched out on the grass banking near a small pond in the marshes. The sun shone from his white-combed feathers and glistened from his groomed black ones. Storks always looked good but today Bill looked better than ever. “Why didn’t you tell me about the storks and the bees? My mum and dad just told me!” asked Herb, wading over, his grey plumage spattered with mud.


“Sorry man, I aint supposed to tell. It’s what I got told” said Bill. “It’s not fair” said Herb licking his wing and trying to smooth down his untidy feathers. “Don’t know what to say dude. Just the way, right?”   “So your mum and dad deliver babies?”   “Yeah man! My mum’s pretty famous. The stork in Dumbo that takes Dumbo to his mother, that’s her! I rewound it like 1000 times when I found out”   “Right. That’s great! Listen I’ll speak to you soon O.K, I’m going to take a fly” said Herb.   “Don’t be sore” said Bill, “Maybe you can come with me one day” Still, Herb was sore. He flew around wondering if he could ever become a DelBird. He flew further than he had ever flown before. As his wings tired he became worried about getting back. He started to panic and flapped and flapped, but his wings became more tired and soon Herb was falling. Falling through wisps of clouds, little drops of water covering his face. He didn’t know what to do. He called out but no one was around.


The ground was coming up fast. He shut his eyes. Then there was a whoosh of air and something grabbed him. Eyes open he saw the earth coming up on him again, but much slower. A muscular seagull set him down on the grass. “Thank you” said Herb, breathless. “No problem. Are you O.K kid?”   “Yes. I think so”   “You look a little shaken but I think you’ll be fine. I’m Jonathan Livingston Foer” said Jonathan Livingston Foer.   “Herb Heron, nice to meet you!” said Herb, coming to his senses and marvelling at the look of strength Foer had.   “What were you doing all the way out here? I rarely see any birds venture past the marshes, especially herons.” said Foer.   “Well, sir, I just . . . I was angry that I can’t be a DelBird”   “What?” said Foer. “Well basically I found out today about DelBirds and I think it’s crumby that I can’t be one” said Herb   “Well I just don’t think that’s true”, said Foer, “You can be anything you like.”


“But they say that’s just how it is and stuff and that means I can’t be” said Herb, beat. “I got told a long time ago that I couldn’t be something” said Foer, “But I didn’t listen to what was said, I just got on with it. Now I am what I am.” Foer said laughing.   “Did you make a joke?” asked Herb.   “I guess you’re too young for Popeye?” Foer said wiping a tear from his eye, he had cracked himself up. “Never mind. But for sure kid, don’t let anyone tell you what you can and can’t do O.K? Just go and do it” said Foer, and before Herb could say anything, he was gone.      For a week or two Herb thought about Foer. He had been saved for a reason and not only that, Foer had saved him. Foer with such great advice had shown him he could do it. So it was only natural that when Bill asked Herb if he wanted to go with him on his first baby run, Herb accepted readily.      The baby was a strange looking thing up close. The sun shone off it’s plump skin and made the whole cloud pink.


Bill lifted the chubby faced thing up, nodding at Herb to give him the directions. But Herb hesitated, “Erm . . . Bill, could I pick him up, just before we set off? Just to see what it’s like?” Bill was unsure but he felt guilty about Herb not being able to be a DelBird and so figured it would be fine to oblige, just this once. Herb tried with all his might to pick up the one-curl-single-toothed-tot. But try as he might he just couldn’t lift him. He felt more defeated than ever with the wide eyes of the baby staring up at him. He gave Bill the directions then flew off home to lay in his nest.     However coming into the marsh near where he lived, Herb heard a croaky cry muffled by the mud. As Herb got closer he saw two frogs with their arms entangled. Both frogs were crying, their tears rolling down their slimy bodies onto the lily pad they were squatted on.   “What’s wrong?” asked Herb to the frogs.   “Oh we just got some terrible news” said one of the frogs. “We applied to Lower Marsh Council to adopt a child and they accepted, but the DelBird Committee tell us they don’t want to deliver to a gay couple on the grounds that they don’t think it’s a ‘good example’.


Can you believe that? It’s not their place to decide. Me and Chrishopperton would make great fathers!” “I bet, you seem really upset. If you care that much you must want to be good parents” said Herb, feeling his own problem was now only a small one.   “I don’t know what we can do, I just need to love something. Other than you of course Ribberto” said Chrishopperton. “I know, I know” said Ribberto.   “No. I know! Wait here!” said Herb, and he flew straight up as fast as he could into the sky.      When he got back Herb had a tiny tadpole in his beak. He lay it down on the lily pad, smiling triumphantly. Both frog’s jaws dropped open.   “You’ve brought us a toad” said Chrishopperton.   “I’m so sorry” said Herb, “let me go back, there was another one that was a bit lighter in colour but I didn’t think anything of it.”   “No, no it’s fine. She’s wonderful” said Ribberto beaming.   “She is rather cute. It was just the shock I think” said Chrishopperton.


“So, you’re happy?” said Herb, feeling a bit silly and a bit proud. “Yes, yes we’re happy, thank you so much!” said Chrishopperton   “I think we’ll call her Bet.” And both frogs ribbeted in chorus as Herb flew back home.      With his confidence up, Herb flew all over, delivering at first only gay-couple babies to male and female frogs, toads, mice and voles. He took creepers to crawlers, bawlers to badgers, wrigglers to rabbits, gigglers to geckos, singers to seals, criers to cats and fliers to finches. However, as his strength grew from carrying larger and larger animals he began to deliver bigger babies. Lions and tigers and bears. Oh my that one hurt in the morning. Herb once delivered a shelled-baby to a finish line. The tortoise he was delivering to had been a drinker and a gambler. Tony the tortoise had stupidly bet a hare his new baby boy if the hare could beat him in a race. Luckily Tony won but it was a close one. After a while Herb got to the point where he could deliver anything. The DelBirds asked him if he would join them as an honorary member, but Herb was happy working freelance.


He didn’t want to get caught up in the politics. He spent most of his days delivering whales to blue shadows that would send up a jet of water in thanks.     When Herb wanted a child of his own, he flew to the highest cloud he could find and said, whatever he found there would be his and he would love it unconditionally. As he flew up into the clouds ice started to form around his wings. He shivered and found it hard to keep rising. By the time he reached the cloud he was ice cold. He used his wing to wipe away the blanket of cloud covering the small thing. Underneath he found a tiny seagull. He named it Jonathon.


Word of the Month

CONTINENTAL Every month, Jot will publish a word at the end of each issue. Our little readers must find the definition of that word and then write us a short story using it appropriately! The first 10 readers to get it right will win one of Seedling’s fantastic adventure packs. But dont worry, if your letter makes us smile we will put it in our next issue - even if you’re not in the first 10. Happy writing!


A Thank You. To all the wonderful contributers who made Jot special. Writers - Seki Lynch. Advertisers - Innocent, Seedling and Fred Perry Illustrators - Malin Rosenqvist, Ricado Cortes, Rosie Sanders, Harry Malt, Robbie Porter and Clay Hickson


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