How can I have a dora the exploradora brithday party?

backpacks for kids fox image

Manzaniith

My niece wants a dora the exploradora party can you give me any ideas please I'll be very thankful




Thank you!

Answer
Ah..we went through that phrase ;). Games can be a Scavenger hunt around the home or outdoor area...hide Dora toys or stickers where kids can find them.

a "Guess what is in the backpack?" game. Put an ordinary item, for example, a spoon, in the backpack and have the kids guess what's inside. Or you could use the same idea and have a grab "backpack" for goodies.

Another idea would be to create a game "Find Swiper" and hide a stuffed fox and have kids hunt for it.

For party ideas â how about a pinata! (very Mexican and goes well with the show)

Put on your own Dora episode, having backpacks, maps, and other items all leading to the party. Dora had an episode that lead them to her motherâs house for Bootâs birthday party. Take everyone on a treasure hunt...hide bananas in trees for "Boots"....stars to find. Make up your own story about Swiper swiping the Birthday cake!

Make a pin the backpack on Dora game. Enlarge and print out a picture of Dora and tape it together on a poster board and then print out coloring pages of Backpack (color them) and cover them with clear contact paper.

Aren't they supposed to find stars or something, too? Can do an "egg-catcher" game of kids throwing ping pong balls into colored egg crates...for snack prizes.

Decorate with big colorful tissue paper flowers...can stick several in a hole in a box to make it a "garden effect"....green paper can be the grass covering the box that's upside down.


Goodie bags can have mini-bubbles, a magnifying glass, a banana from "Boots", candy treats.

There are fun coloring pages on the web you can print out for them to do.

Dora theme party food is easy to prepare with a few ingredients to make up a fun fiesta of tacos, mini quesadillas, chips and mild salsa or cheese dip.

Does this have too many big words and too much purple prose?

Funkbot

Alpha-Bits
by E. Frederic

The passersby zipped by sipping coffee on the freeway that ran along the old mill buildings which were being retrofitted with new businesses. Among the additions was a large day care center devoted to the working poor. The sign for Alpha-Bits loomed over the back of the building in advertisement and illuminated the plow sand at night and gave the drug addicts a guiding light. The bricks of the building were the color of coffee and tea and was topped with a exaggerated and large children's block letter displaying the letters A and B.

"Honey, this is where you'll be going after school while daddy and I are working," my mother told me as we exited her red Escort hatchback and I wiped my nose on my Starter jacket. There had been babysitters but not one responsible or sane enough to last more than a couple of weeks. One was a skateboarding kid named Mark who smelled like reefer. Then there was the quasi-schizophrenic Stacy, who threw a cat on my Dad for a laugh and my Dad had gotten his bare back scratched up something fierce.

Stepping out of the car with my backpack, I peered up at the building in which I would be herded daily, along with my crusty-nosed, maple-syrup-in-hair-and-old-milk-on-breath schoolmates in a Ford van after school. The building represented a corrections facility and I felt a man condemned.

Up to this day my life had consisted of a luxury which, I felt at the time, could never be pried my grasp. Staying at home, being fed my favorite sodium-enriched foods, watching cartoon mammals beat the brains out of each other.
Pre-school was only fun and the days spent there were swift. I got to be a little human and go out into civilization on my own for the first time and would routinely receive a Charleston Chew and a Dr. Pepper for my troubles. Then on home for more Macaroni and cheese and price is right and outside-the-lines coloring. And at dinner I would finish my meats and starches and toss the vile vegetables into the trash. And off to sleep to dream the dreams of a small child.

Then there was kindergarten, and the stakes were raised drastically. The first first day of school. Personality. Kids who just wouldn't share in preschool, were now taking shape as bullies. On my first day, when I still had red streaks on my cheeks from rubbing salty tears from them, one such bully took a jab at my back. I would soon learn that the reason he punched, not only my back, but many other boys' backs, was that he felt the sound that it made was pleasant, like a burlap sack loosely packed with meat tossed to the bare earth.

âWatch out little wimp,â he said as he struck. He pretended to be in the bully business for the glitz and glamor and authority, but for him it was all about that little noise. âBhuphfâ

I began to well up with tears again and he forcibly turned me around and gave me a second, (even harder) blow to the middle my back, next to my spine, for he would not punch bone because it did not create the desired effect. I tried to reason with him through my bawling.

âWhu-why, wou-,â taking in a huge breath of air, âwould you do that?â I said, the words bursting forth like a frightened cat from a picnic basket.

âCuz. You're a little whimp. Little whimp. Lil booger!â he replied, and he gave me one final shove as he walked off down the corridor feeling satisfied for the moment. I walked into a classroom where my academic career would officially begin.

My kindergarten teacher, Ms. Abernathy, did her best to introduce us to crude academics and fill the role of mother for us confused and dour youngsters. We read a story about a fox who wore a tophat and a toad who wore a monocle that drove a roadster down country roads to their friend the mallard's home for tea. At noon some smelly rectangular mats were brought out by Ms. Abernathy, and she had a crate of milks for us. We drank the milks, the world dimmed, and pretty soon we were dozing comfortably. Ms. Abernathy had shut the blinds.
âYou kids stay where ya's are and behave!â she said with a fresh smoke in her mouth. I was watched her as she opened the heavy black door that led out to a metal staircase as she lit up into the wind. She noticed my curiosity about her and made a shooing motion with her hand. I got scared and looked away quickly.

I turned my concerns back to the mice on-screen, waves battering them in a scene that was rich in primary color, like all great Disney films, when I heard a little creature next to me make a sound.

âWhat's your name? My name's Kirsten. I like Smurfs,â it said again, clearer this time. I turned to my left and noticed it was female with short blonde hair and a pair of eyes so big they seemed to be bursting from their lids. I stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to say.

âI like Smurfs too. And David the Gnome,â

âYeah,â she said, looking away a bit, seeming as though she may have regretted her decision to speak to me. We both resumed the film
Brenda settled back into the room and reviewed some papers.

There came a moment, when the cartoon swashbuckling and general chaos on-screen had ceased to make room for an onscreen kiss between two mice. When the movie ended and Brenda brought up the lights, Kirsten, unexpectedly, grabbed me by the jaw with her little chicken hands and pressed her lips very hard against mine. A very violating, and especially young first kiss. Despite the violation, however, I suddenly felt elated. Kirsten, on the other hand, pulled away and stuck her tongue out at me and silently put her spread out-hands on either side of her head, looking like a moose with antlers, and ran away laughing like a maniac. And my experiencse with females has fit that same basic pattern.

At 5:00 pm the trial came to an end when my mom came to pick me up in the Escort hatchback. She asked me how my day had been. I had held her up for 15 minutes this morning with my hysterical crying in front of the school's fl
lagpole so she knew that much at leas. I thought about my back bully and became sullen again.

âI hate school. It's dumb,â I said, pouting and glaring out the window as we exited the lot and merged onto Granite St.. The day had become gloomy while our movie was playing.

âDon't say that. You need school. You didn't have fun in your little kindergarten class?â

âNo I didn't. I don't wanna go back tomorrow,â I told her.

âYou don't have to go tomorrow. Just consider yourself lucky that the first day of school fell on a Friday.â

Yes! How could I have been such a fool? The weekend. When my dad would get a couple days' rest to drink beer and curse the Red Sox as they botched late-season games (this was in 1989). The same deal must go for school, and that realization, and the thought of Kirsten, caused a great rush of excitement and optimism in me. No bully or disgruntle childcare professional could take that away from me. Until Monday.

Answer
I stopped reading after the first sentence. Long sentences require flow, and that one just didn't have it. Be careful with information dumps; work the info into the paragraph in an even distribution rather than inserting it all into a single line.

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