Article: If parents had job descriptions, mine would read: organize bills, playmates, laundry(washing clothes), meals, snacks, outings and shopping. The only thing on my husband's description would be the word "fun" written in big red letters along the top. Although he is a selfless provider, our children think of him more as a combination of a jungle gym and a clown . Our parenting styles complement each other. His style is a nonstop adventure where no one has to worry about washing their hands or eating vegetables. I'm too busy worrying to be fun. Even if I try, I know I will be outdone by my husband. I bought my children bubble gum flavored toothpaste to teach them how to brush their teeth. They thought it was perfect until my husband taught them how to spit out water between their two front teeth like a fountain. I took the children on a walk in the woods and caught a ladybug (small insect). I was "cool" until their father caught a giant beetle in the backyard. I can make sure my children are safe. But I can't wire the TV so they can watch their favorite DVD. I can carry my children in my arms when they are tired and kiss them goodnight. But I can't flip them upside down so they can walk on the ceiling or put them on my shoulders so they can see the moths flying around the ceiling light. I can take them to doctor's appointments, scout meetings, or to the aquarium . But I'll never go into the wilderness, stick a worm onto a hook, catch a fish, and cook it over an open flame. I'll sit in the first row of every sports game and cheer until my throat is painful. But I'll never teach my son how to hit a home run or slide into first base. As a mother I can do a lot of things for my children. But no matter how hard I try, I can never be their father. Question: What's the biggest difference between the author's parenting style and that of her husband? Yes or no, is the answer "The author takes care of the children while her husband mainly has fun with the children."?
No
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Article: Behind the traffic noise and modernday confusion on Stoney Creek Road in Bexley lies a small but amazing piece of history.Just a century ago,Mr Harold Chapman Snr.founded Sydney's Famous Original Doll Hospital and,although the Hospital has relocated several times,you cannot help but get a sense of days gone by when you walk through the doors. In 1913 Sydney's first Doll Hospital was opened in Beamish Street.Campsie by Mr Harold Chapman Snr as part of his General Store,all beginning from a simple shipping accident.Harold's brother was in the business of importing dolls from Japan and during the shipping process the rubber bands holding the dolls together would go rotten and it was Harold who found a way to repair them.From such a small beginning grew quite a successful business as demand for doll repairs increased. The business was taken over in the 1930's by Harold's son,also Harold Chapman who relocated the Doll Hospital to Her Majesty's Arcade in Sydney where the business expanded.The real boom came in 1939 with World War II and the extreme restrictions on production and import.Suddenly new dolls were no longer an option so little children had to have their "best friends" lovingly repaired. In 1968 the Doll Hospital moved to its present location.It is now run by Mr Geoff Chapman,Harold Jnr's son.The Hospital is not only in its third generation of owners,but also its third generation of "doctors",the skills and knowledge being passed down through the family of repairers. Flipping through the "Before and After" photo album,you can see just how many wonderful repairs have been carried out and you can just imagine the stories behind them.It is estimated that the Doll Hospital has treated over 2.5 million "patients" so far--that's a lot of childhood memories revived! Question: What can you see in the "Before and After" photo album? Yes or no, is the answer "The dolls before and after their repairs."?
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Article: You may not pay much attention to your daily elevator ride. Many of us use a lift several times during the day without really thinking about it. But Lee Gray, PhD of the University of North Carolina, US, has made it his business to examine this overlooked form of public transport. He is known as the "Elevator Guy". "The lift becomes this interesting social space where etiquette is sort of odd ," Gray told the BBC. "Elevators are socially very interesting but often very awkward places." We walk in and usually turn around to face the door. If someone else comes in, we may have to move. And here, according to Gray, lift users unthinkingly go through a set pattern of movements. He told the BBC what he had observed. He explained that when you are the only one inside a lift, you can do whatever you want - it's your own little box. If there are two of you, you go into different corners, standing diagonally across from each other to create distance. When a third person enters, you will unconsciously form a triangle . And when there is a fourth person it becomes a square, with someone in every corner. A fifth person is probably going to have to stand in the middle. New entrants to the lift will need to _ the situation when the doors slide open and then act according to their decisions. Once in, for most people the rule is simple - look down, or look at your phone. Why are we so awkward in lifts? "You don't have enough space," Professor Babette Renneberg, a clinical psychologist at the Free University of Berlin, told the BBC. "Usually when we meet other people, we have about an arm's length of distance between us. And that's not possible in most elevators." In such a small, enclosed space it becomes very important to act in a way that cannot be understood as threatening or odd. "The easiest way to do this is to avoid eye contact ," she said. Question: According to Gray, when people enter an elevator, they usually _ . Yes or no, is the answer "try to keep a distance from other people"?
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Article: I grew up in Lakeland, Los Angeles.We all lived on my parents' farm.When I was 12,1 got a part-time job on a dairy farm, helping to milk cows.We milked 65 cows at 5 o'clock in the morning and again at 2 o'clock in the afternoon, seven days a week. One day before daylight, I complained to my father about having to go to milk those cows.My father said, "You know, boy, to work is a blessing." Going to college was a rare privilege for a kid from Lakeland.My father told me if I picked something to study that I liked, I would always look forward to my work.But he also added, "Even having a job you hate is better than not having a job at all." I wanted to be a farmer, but I joined the army to help pay for college. In the late 1980s, during a visit to Bangladesh, I saw a woman with a baby on her back, breaking bricks with a hammer.I asked a Bangladesh officer why they weren't using a machine, which would have been a lot easier.He told me a machine would put that lady out of work.Breaking those bricks meant she would earn enough money to feed herself and her baby that day.Although that woman's job was bad, it was enough to keep a small family alive.It reminded me of my father's words: to work is a blessing. I don't think I'll ever quit working.I'm retired from the army, but I'm still working to help people.I'm not going to stop.I believe in my father's words.I believe in the blessing of work. Question: For the Bangladesh woman, breaking bricks with a hammer was a means of _ . Yes or no, is the answer "survival"?
Yes
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