The air feels bitter cold on a January morning, but most of the bundled four- and five-year-olds around me don't seem to feel it. Their nose tips are turning rosy as they shout together: “3, 2, 1…” “LIFT OFF!” There's a pause, then: Pffshew! The model rocket we're all watching zips up and away. The small crowd murmurs with delight, a collective “Whoah…” We lose the rocket in the glare of the Sun, then — pop! — its parachute opens and a flutter of orange shows us where the wind has taken it across the playing field. It's all over...
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