Match the Lids
A cupboard of containers and lids that do not match. Sort it out.
Cette situation a ses propres règles avec un enfant de 5 ans : énergie différente, espace différent, patience différente. À cinq ans, les règles prennent du sens et terminer quelque chose devient satisfaisant en soi.
Ces activités ont été choisies précisément pour cette situation, avec des durées réalistes et une indication claire de votre rôle.
47 activités trouvées
A cupboard of containers and lids that do not match. Sort it out.
Name a colour. They run. You sit down.
A real job, done properly, by someone who is four.
Close your eyes. What made that noise?
Reach in, feel one object, and describe it without naming it.
Darks here, lights there, and a two year old who takes it very seriously.
Be a cat, a cobra, a tree. Ten minutes of stretching that does not feel like stretching.
Ten minutes on the timer and everything off the floor.
How long can you stand on one leg? Now with your eyes shut.
Ten objects on a tray, thirty seconds to look, then one disappears.
Lights off, one torch, and a spot of light to chase around the room.
Tape a huge sheet of paper to the floor and let them draw on their hands and knees.
Face each other and copy every movement exactly, in silence.
Music on, dance. Music off, freeze. That is the whole game.
Bandages, a clipboard, and every soft toy in the house admitted for treatment.
Do one good thing for someone in the house without being caught.
A bowl of warm soapy water buys you a genuinely peaceful half hour.
Cushions, chairs and tape turn your floor into a course they will run ten times.
Rolled up socks and a laundry basket. That is the entire setup.
Freeze small toys in a tub of water and let them dig them out.
One balloon. It must not touch the floor.
A potato on a spoon and a very slow, very serious walk down the hall.
A menu, an order pad, and one very slow waiter.
A tray of rice, some cups, and twenty minutes of total absorption.
Flour, salt and water make a dough that keeps forever once baked.
A big box, some tape, and no instructions whatsoever.
A torch, a bare wall, and hands that turn into animals.
Wellies on, stick in hand, and every puddle on the street measured.
Wooden spoons, saucepans, and a licence to make noise.
Every blanket in the house, one afternoon, one secret headquarters.
A trail of clues around the house, ending in something small.
A pine cone, some lard, and birdseed. Hang it up and wait.
Build the fort, then read inside it by torchlight.
Ten plastic bottles, a soft ball, and a hallway.
Cushions, a torch and a stack of books in a corner they made themselves.
A pillowcase each and a finish line down the hallway.
You describe. They draw. Nobody looks.
Invent a sandwich, write the recipe, then make someone else follow it exactly.
Three designs, one tape measure, and an argument about which flies furthest.
Throw a soft ball around the room. Anyone who makes a sound is out.
One window, one pencil, twenty minutes of genuine quiet.
Kitchen roll tubes taped to a wall, and a marble that keeps falling out.
A tally chart, a window, and fifteen quiet minutes.
Not a craft. An actual dish that the family eats.
Two minutes each morning, and a month of real data by the end.
Teach them a game adults actually play.
A straw, a string across the room, and a balloon that fires along it.