Silas is on a bit of an icicle kick. There are a few that keep forming, melting, and reforming on the eaves of our house. I only realized how much he was noticing them as they started to work their way into our everyday activities and conversations. Pieces of spaghetti are draped over the side of the bowl to become icicles. Blocks are arranged to become icicles. Pages are filled from edge to edge with vertical lines. Icicles. So, we're exploring.
After a recent foray outside (which followed far, far too much time spent surrounded by walls) Silas gathered piece after piece of ice, asking to bring it inside. I got a bowl and added to it a small icicle broken off from the roof.
"Ooooh! It's cold!" he said "And wet!"
We compared the ice he gathered off the ground to the icicle. One bumpy, one smooth. One a cylinder, one a disc. We listened to the sounds it made as we crunched it between our fingers and under out palms. We touched it to our faces. To our bellies.
He closely examined the bowl of water that remained after leaving the ice sitting on the counter all night. He seemed very concerned that we "do" something with the water. "A Project!" he declared. After much discussion, it was decided that some of the water would be used to give the plants a drink. The rest was added to a jug of water and was returned to its outside home in order to make more icicles.
March came in a bit lion-ish, so I'm sure our opportunities for icicle exploration are not yet over (although an early spring would be a-okay by me).
Silas is 3 years old.