Happy Ventures Preschool

Check out the Oxnard Insect Festival Saturday, June 4 🐝🐞🦋🐜🦗

We are back and we’re so darned excited!! The Oxnard Insect Festival will be held on Saturday, June 4 from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. There will be insects to eat, insect art to peruse and insects to touch and see! We hope the kids will come dressed in an insect costume to join in our costume contest. You can dance the afternoon away to the sounds of a Beatles (get it?) tribute band. Our after school programs are holding an art contest and you get to vote on the winners during the festival. All this and so much more! Stay tuned for more details!!

Thank you to sponsors Zoo Med Laboratories, Inc., the Oxnard Water Division and Rincon-Vitova Insectaries.

Happy Birthday, Director Autumn!!! We love you! Thank you for all your hard work!

To all my amazing coworkers. You all rock ❤️

Teachers, you are amazing! You are enough. You're doing an incredible job during a very challenging time. We are proud of you! 🥰

Happy Birthday Dr. Seuss!! We had such a great day celebrating you that we will be doing it all week!! 🎈

Make a heart family! Your students can make their own families or create one from their imagination.

https://www.notimeforflashcards.com/2021/01/preschool-valentines-day-craft.html

Tonight! Thursday, February 11 at 7:30pm
Ron Koertge and open mic
Jackson Wheeker poetry series online
Host: Marsha de la O
Zoom opens at 7pm

Join Zoom Meeting
https://us02web.zoom.us/j/9607501600
Meeting ID: 960 750 1600

Ron Koertge
Negative Space
My dad taught me to pack: lay out everything. Put back half. Roll things that roll. Wrinkle-prone things on top of cotton things. Then pants, waist-to-hem. Nooks and crannies for socks. Belts around the sides like snakes. Plastic over that. Add shoes. Wear heavy stuff on the plane.
We started when I was little. I’d roll up socks. Then he’d pretend to put me in the suitcase, and we’d laugh. Some guys bond with their dads shooting hoops or talking about Chevrolets. We did it over luggage.
By the time I was twelve, if he was busy, I’d pack for him. Mom tried but didn’t have the knack. He’d get somewhere, open his suitcase and text me—"Perfect.” That one word from him meant a lot.
The funeral was terrible—him laid out in that big carton and me crying and thinking, Look at all that wasted space.