<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376737166423218620</id><updated>2011-04-21T10:52:42.821-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Conto a Conto</title><subtitle type='html'>Vamos discutir o que é pra discutir e entender o que é pra entender. Fazer historinha acontecer na hora em que coloca letrinhas, que formam palavras, que formam sentido e a gente consegue se divertir. Lembrar brincadeira que já existiu. Discutir assunto que é sério. Vamos que vamos!
Ló</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Lourdes Nassif</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01710109270458046525</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXy6yLpiMkI/AAAAAAAAAEY/MyR3slOcGKk/S220/por-do-sol-022.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>19</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376737166423218620.post-5442359860257190468</id><published>2009-01-25T15:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T15:26:35.824-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Uma História Diferente</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXzzUDdzAtI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/jI_JqTbxp2o/s1600-h/estrelas2%5B1%5D.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295374787734078162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 181px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXzzUDdzAtI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/jI_JqTbxp2o/s400/estrelas2%5B1%5D.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; (imagem: bp2.blogger.com)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Essa é uma história curta, mas com começo, meio e fim.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Começa ao nascer do dia, quando o sol vem bem morninho, mas sem doer de ardido.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Tem seu meio ao meio dia, lá pela hora do almoço, quando a sombra se esconde bem debaixo dos seus pés.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E o fim é bem de noite, na hora de ir dormir, quando dá vontade de tudo: de brincar, de ler, sorrir. Dá vontade de ir ao banheiro bem umas três vezes. Dá vontade de rir alto para acordar o vizinho, que é muito implicante, mas a gente até desculpa pois ele é tão velhinho, tão cheio de cabelos brancos, tem tantas rugas na cara, que a gente fica imaginando com quantas coisas ele já se preocupou.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E é no fim do dia, quando começa a noitinha, que a vida parece boa. Me penduro na janela, apontando as estrelinhas, para ver se nasce verruga. É nessa hora que eu penso, eu sonho bem acordado, em me tornar astronauta, para apontar bem de perto, assim, encostando o dedinho, nesses pedaços de vidro, nessas contas tão brilhantes, nesses pedaços do céu.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E sonha em se tornar grande, mais parecendo um gigante, só pra colher estrelinhas e pendurá-las na noite, assim, por toda a cidade, só para ver se o mundo sorria, se as rugas do vizinho velhinho desapareceriam, se as bonecas andavam, os carrinhos corriam sozinhos, e as bicicletas do mundo fossem todas pedalando, sem ninguém, até encontrar outro mundo onde todos esses sonhos não fossem sonhos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E elas voltariam depois, bem depressinha, buscar a gente para ver, antes que as mamães se cansassem e colocassem todas as crianças para dormir.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5376737166423218620-5442359860257190468?l=contoaconto.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/feeds/5442359860257190468/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5376737166423218620&amp;postID=5442359860257190468' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/5442359860257190468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/5442359860257190468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/2009/01/uma-histria-diferente.html' title='Uma História Diferente'/><author><name>Lourdes Nassif</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01710109270458046525</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXy6yLpiMkI/AAAAAAAAAEY/MyR3slOcGKk/S220/por-do-sol-022.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXzzUDdzAtI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/jI_JqTbxp2o/s72-c/estrelas2%5B1%5D.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376737166423218620.post-41778902057665516</id><published>2009-01-25T13:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T14:41:50.726-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dedo Arretado</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXzpWzw7B0I/AAAAAAAAAFI/5_QSNV75xWs/s1600-h/pezinho.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295363839942657858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 260px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 251px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXzpWzw7B0I/AAAAAAAAAFI/5_QSNV75xWs/s400/pezinho.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(imagem: &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.piaui.pi.gov.br/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;www.piaui.pi.gov.br&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;) &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;Era um dedo do pé&lt;br /&gt;daqueles sempre do contra.&lt;br /&gt;Não gostava de meia&lt;br /&gt;e então fazia um furo&lt;br /&gt;e ficava espiando a vida&lt;br /&gt;pelo escuro do sapato.&lt;br /&gt;Tinha aflição de chão,&lt;br /&gt;e ficava todo empinado&lt;br /&gt;apontando para o céu&lt;br /&gt;quando o menino levado&lt;br /&gt;deixava os sapatos de lado&lt;br /&gt;e ia brincar por aí.&lt;br /&gt;Mas era um dedão&lt;br /&gt;muito enxerido:&lt;br /&gt;não gostava de dormir&lt;br /&gt;dentro da coberta&lt;br /&gt;e era só o menino cochilar&lt;br /&gt;e ele já dava um jeitinho&lt;br /&gt;de sair.&lt;br /&gt;E o menino vivia acordando&lt;br /&gt;de pé gelado!&lt;br /&gt;Mas esse dedo atrapalhado&lt;br /&gt;um dia levou o troco&lt;br /&gt;para nunca mais esquecer:&lt;br /&gt;ganhou um galo na ponta&lt;br /&gt;de tanto forçar o sapato&lt;br /&gt;e do lado, fiquei com dó,&lt;br /&gt;enroscou-se num preguinho&lt;br /&gt;que estava bem escondido&lt;br /&gt;esperando sua vez.&lt;br /&gt;E o dedão se acalmou&lt;br /&gt;por uma semana e um dia&lt;br /&gt;até começar, ai que coisa!,&lt;br /&gt;tudo, tudo, outra vez!&lt;br /&gt;               Êta dedãozinho safado!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5376737166423218620-41778902057665516?l=contoaconto.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/feeds/41778902057665516/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5376737166423218620&amp;postID=41778902057665516' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/41778902057665516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/41778902057665516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/2009/01/dedo-arretado.html' title='Dedo Arretado'/><author><name>Lourdes Nassif</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01710109270458046525</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXy6yLpiMkI/AAAAAAAAAEY/MyR3slOcGKk/S220/por-do-sol-022.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXzpWzw7B0I/AAAAAAAAAFI/5_QSNV75xWs/s72-c/pezinho.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376737166423218620.post-8620372330476635467</id><published>2009-01-25T13:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T13:43:31.262-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Êta Família - 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXzcDKT6B9I/AAAAAAAAAFA/XL7dxHI47yQ/s1600-h/crian%C3%A7a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295349208746428370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 220px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 245px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXzcDKT6B9I/AAAAAAAAAFA/XL7dxHI47yQ/s400/crian%C3%A7a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; (imagem de &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.pca.org.br/"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;www.pca.org.br&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paulinha tem uma irmã, Gabriela&lt;br /&gt;que é mais velha que Paulinha&lt;br /&gt;que é mais nova que Gabriela.&lt;br /&gt;Um dia, Paulinha levou um susto&lt;br /&gt;e chorou e chorou e chorou muito&lt;br /&gt;quando viu faltando, na boca de Gabriela,&lt;br /&gt;os dois dentinhos da frente.&lt;br /&gt;Daí Paulinha resolveu resolver o seu problema&lt;br /&gt;e entrou em entendimento com sua mãe, a Regina,&lt;br /&gt;querendo saber quantos anos precisaria fazer&lt;br /&gt;para que não caíssem seus dentes.&lt;br /&gt;E as duas conversaram, tentando achar a solução&lt;br /&gt;até que Paulinha resolveu:&lt;br /&gt;no seu aniversário não faria cinco anos&lt;br /&gt;faria treze.&lt;br /&gt;E foi isso que aconteceu&lt;br /&gt;e quem comprou as velinhas&lt;br /&gt;não foi eu.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5376737166423218620-8620372330476635467?l=contoaconto.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/feeds/8620372330476635467/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5376737166423218620&amp;postID=8620372330476635467' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/8620372330476635467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/8620372330476635467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/2009/01/ta-famlia-1.html' title='Êta Família - 1'/><author><name>Lourdes Nassif</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01710109270458046525</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXy6yLpiMkI/AAAAAAAAAEY/MyR3slOcGKk/S220/por-do-sol-022.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXzcDKT6B9I/AAAAAAAAAFA/XL7dxHI47yQ/s72-c/crian%C3%A7a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376737166423218620.post-8336092519537943013</id><published>2009-01-25T13:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T13:30:31.045-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Menina</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXzY-1InZ8I/AAAAAAAAAE4/T8tdrlxT38Q/s1600-h/gato.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295345835807565762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 295px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXzY-1InZ8I/AAAAAAAAAE4/T8tdrlxT38Q/s400/gato.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A menina tentou de tudo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;cutucou o papai, a mamãe&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;puxou o rabo do gato&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;e acendeu a luz do banheiro&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                           sem precisar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Brigou com as bonecas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;chutou as lãs da vovó&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;empurrou bem forte a cadeira de balanço&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                             do vovô.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E tudo e todo e qualquer um&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;e até qualquer coisa que passava&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;a menina dava um jeito de brigar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E estava assim&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;só porque ninguém lhe respondia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ninguém lhe contava&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ninguém lhe dizia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;por que é que o céu só ficava azul&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                         na televisão?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5376737166423218620-8336092519537943013?l=contoaconto.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/feeds/8336092519537943013/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5376737166423218620&amp;postID=8336092519537943013' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/8336092519537943013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/8336092519537943013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/2009/01/menina.html' title='A Menina'/><author><name>Lourdes Nassif</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01710109270458046525</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXy6yLpiMkI/AAAAAAAAAEY/MyR3slOcGKk/S220/por-do-sol-022.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXzY-1InZ8I/AAAAAAAAAE4/T8tdrlxT38Q/s72-c/gato.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376737166423218620.post-2786208218583698548</id><published>2009-01-25T13:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T13:16:03.787-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Fila</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXzVdV81-uI/AAAAAAAAAEw/0DiOv8MVxdk/s1600-h/fila.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295341961966123746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 280px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 182px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXzVdV81-uI/AAAAAAAAAEw/0DiOv8MVxdk/s400/fila.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Você sabe o que é uma fila?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;É um monte de gente nervosa&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;esperando, da próxima vez,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;ter melhor sorte.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Ou então que a pessoa da frente&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(assim como a da frente pensa&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;de quem está na sua frente)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;seja bem rápida&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;e se libere depressa&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;da posição dianteira&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;de quem chegou primeiro.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Daí ela entra!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Uma pessoa sozinha&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;quando entra em qualquer sala&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;depois de esperar na fila&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;não é um único nunca:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;é sempre um pedacinho&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;de uma fila comprida&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;que só acaba no finzinho&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;quando o último entra,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;aliviado.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;E a pessoa que atende&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;essa fila interminável&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;nunca é uma fila&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;é sempre um sozinho&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;diante de tantos pedaços&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;de uma fila maluca&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;que começou de manhã&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;e só acabou quando a noite&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;pendurou a lua no céu&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;e o sol foi dormir.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5376737166423218620-2786208218583698548?l=contoaconto.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/feeds/2786208218583698548/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5376737166423218620&amp;postID=2786208218583698548' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/2786208218583698548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/2786208218583698548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/2009/01/fila.html' title='A Fila'/><author><name>Lourdes Nassif</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01710109270458046525</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXy6yLpiMkI/AAAAAAAAAEY/MyR3slOcGKk/S220/por-do-sol-022.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXzVdV81-uI/AAAAAAAAAEw/0DiOv8MVxdk/s72-c/fila.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376737166423218620.post-3366411121436999466</id><published>2007-11-01T10:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-01T10:34:05.365-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Apelido</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RyoM0w17DAI/AAAAAAAAAC0/TK2sLcilFkQ/s1600-h/2544_pintura_artista_bajado_olinda_pernambuco_brasil.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127925226318531586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RyoM0w17DAI/AAAAAAAAAC0/TK2sLcilFkQ/s400/2544_pintura_artista_bajado_olinda_pernambuco_brasil.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;(pintura de Bajado)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apelido é uma coisa tão antiga,&lt;br /&gt;mas tão antiga,&lt;br /&gt;que eu duvido que alguém sabia dizer&lt;br /&gt;quem inventou.&lt;br /&gt;Aposto que na Grécia antiga&lt;br /&gt;ou quando o mundo começou&lt;br /&gt;tinha sempre alguém&lt;br /&gt;chamando os outros&lt;br /&gt;de quealquer coisa próxima&lt;br /&gt;de um nome carinhoso,&lt;br /&gt;quem sabe talvez de "Mô".&lt;br /&gt;Tem gente que, no telefone,&lt;br /&gt;nunca consegue dizer "alô"&lt;br /&gt;e fica sempre no nosso ouvido&lt;br /&gt;"viu bem?", "ai amor!".&lt;br /&gt;Também acho muito engraçado&lt;br /&gt;quando vamos na quitanda&lt;br /&gt;ou até mesmo na feira&lt;br /&gt;ouvir dizer, ai que coisa!,&lt;br /&gt;"Ei tia, sabe quanto custa a pera?".&lt;br /&gt;Mas o pior de tudo&lt;br /&gt;eu acho que é na escola&lt;br /&gt;quando algum gozador&lt;br /&gt;olha na gente, e de cara,&lt;br /&gt;arranja um nome engraçado&lt;br /&gt;que acompanha a gente&lt;br /&gt;até aquele dia&lt;br /&gt;que não sabemos quando vai ser.&lt;br /&gt;Eu consegui um&lt;br /&gt;que não posso me livrar&lt;br /&gt;mas se pensam que eu conto&lt;br /&gt;podem sentar e esperar!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5376737166423218620-3366411121436999466?l=contoaconto.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/feeds/3366411121436999466/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5376737166423218620&amp;postID=3366411121436999466' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/3366411121436999466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/3366411121436999466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/2007/11/apelido.html' title='Apelido'/><author><name>Lourdes Nassif</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01710109270458046525</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXy6yLpiMkI/AAAAAAAAAEY/MyR3slOcGKk/S220/por-do-sol-022.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RyoM0w17DAI/AAAAAAAAAC0/TK2sLcilFkQ/s72-c/2544_pintura_artista_bajado_olinda_pernambuco_brasil.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376737166423218620.post-1217171239826016228</id><published>2007-10-31T13:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T13:49:16.924-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Julinha</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/Ryjpig17C_I/AAAAAAAAACs/6Ab1s69kfb4/s1600-h/Picture%20156-2.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127604954902236146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/Ryjpig17C_I/AAAAAAAAACs/6Ab1s69kfb4/s400/Picture%2520156-2.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Julinha, menina linda&lt;br /&gt;medo do quê você tem?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Será que é do escuro?&lt;br /&gt;ou então do sol bem forte?&lt;br /&gt;ou será que é da chuva?&lt;br /&gt;ou ainda dessa brisa&lt;br /&gt;que desmancha teu penteado&lt;br /&gt;tirando o cabelo da fivela?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julinha menina de sonhos&lt;br /&gt;por quê tem medo do céu?&lt;br /&gt;O infinito é azul&lt;br /&gt;as estrelas são de prata&lt;br /&gt;e é na lua que moram&lt;br /&gt;os suspiros de todos os poetas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julinha menina doce&lt;br /&gt;por quê tem medo do mar?&lt;br /&gt;O mar é feito de ondas&lt;br /&gt;enfeitado de conchinhas&lt;br /&gt;que reflete a prata da noite&lt;br /&gt;e o ouro de todo dia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julinha menina minha&lt;br /&gt;larga esse medo e vem cá&lt;br /&gt;vamos juntas, meu tesouro,&lt;br /&gt;pegar o elevador de nuvens&lt;br /&gt;subir até o infinito&lt;br /&gt;brincar de bola com o mundo&lt;br /&gt;e, quem sabe, se tudo der certo,&lt;br /&gt;vamos voltar para o jantar.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5376737166423218620-1217171239826016228?l=contoaconto.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/feeds/1217171239826016228/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5376737166423218620&amp;postID=1217171239826016228' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/1217171239826016228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/1217171239826016228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/2007/10/julinha.html' title='Julinha'/><author><name>Lourdes Nassif</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01710109270458046525</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXy6yLpiMkI/AAAAAAAAAEY/MyR3slOcGKk/S220/por-do-sol-022.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/Ryjpig17C_I/AAAAAAAAACs/6Ab1s69kfb4/s72-c/Picture%2520156-2.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376737166423218620.post-4476140588760225549</id><published>2007-10-31T11:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T11:12:24.021-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Afonso</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RyjEkw17C-I/AAAAAAAAACk/9lGlzpWDa-M/s1600-h/4digital3d130x98.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127564311626714082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RyjEkw17C-I/AAAAAAAAACk/9lGlzpWDa-M/s400/4digital3d130x98.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Afonso, o canário&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;canta&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;e me encanta&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;quando não canta de manhã.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Afonso, canta,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;e se desfaz em chilreios&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;e acompanha músicas&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;e me acorda&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;toda manhã.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Se acendo a luz de madrugada&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;ele acha que o sol nasceu&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;e o dia se faz tarde&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;e canta...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Se abro a torneira&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;ele se imagina na mata&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;que nunca conheceu&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;ao lado de uma cachoeira&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;e canta...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Se converso ao telefone&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;ele, confuso canário,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;acha que minha voz é música&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;e canta...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Se o microondas apita,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;se o liquidificador liquidifica,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;se a chaleira chia,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;se a televisão se liga,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;tudo parece música&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;aos ouvidos canários de Afonso&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;e ele canta...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Se estou triste, quieta,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;a música se cala&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;e Afonso, com a compreensão de um canário cativo&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;se põe a cantar&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;para espantar minha tristeza&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;encher de som minha quietude&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;e me animar a continuar.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;                      Afonso, mais que um canário&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;                       é minha vontade de viver,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;                                       mesmo que cante alto demais&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;                                       todas as manhãs.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5376737166423218620-4476140588760225549?l=contoaconto.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/feeds/4476140588760225549/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5376737166423218620&amp;postID=4476140588760225549' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/4476140588760225549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/4476140588760225549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/2007/10/afonso.html' title='Afonso'/><author><name>Lourdes Nassif</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01710109270458046525</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXy6yLpiMkI/AAAAAAAAAEY/MyR3slOcGKk/S220/por-do-sol-022.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RyjEkw17C-I/AAAAAAAAACk/9lGlzpWDa-M/s72-c/4digital3d130x98.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376737166423218620.post-8098824537797762299</id><published>2007-10-30T09:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-30T09:58:58.728-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Saudade das crianças</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RydiMA17C7I/AAAAAAAAACI/LXrtTynG2PQ/s1600-h/filhotes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127174659308719026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RydiMA17C7I/AAAAAAAAACI/LXrtTynG2PQ/s320/filhotes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;A saudade é uma coisa engraçada&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;aperta primeiro o pé&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(e a gente põe a culpa no sapato novo),&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;depois aperta o joelho&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(e juramos não usar mais meia),&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;sobe então para o pescoço&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(jogamos fora o colar).&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Mas quando chega na cabeça&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;não tem remédio que ajude:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;tentamos disfarçar cantando,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;assobiando ou dormindo.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Mas não tem jeito ou maneira&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;de disfarçar isso aí&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;então eu fico quieta&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;fecho os olhos, apertadinhos,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;conto até cem na cabeça&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;e vou visitar, um por um,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;todos os meus sobrinhos.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5376737166423218620-8098824537797762299?l=contoaconto.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/feeds/8098824537797762299/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5376737166423218620&amp;postID=8098824537797762299' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/8098824537797762299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/8098824537797762299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/2007/10/saudade-das-crianas.html' title='Saudade das crianças'/><author><name>Lourdes Nassif</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01710109270458046525</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXy6yLpiMkI/AAAAAAAAAEY/MyR3slOcGKk/S220/por-do-sol-022.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RydiMA17C7I/AAAAAAAAACI/LXrtTynG2PQ/s72-c/filhotes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376737166423218620.post-7348202628337203824</id><published>2007-10-30T09:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-30T09:45:10.149-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Êta Família - Oscarzinho</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/Ryde0w17C6I/AAAAAAAAACA/l5l_IQY9TK8/s1600-h/paisaguia.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127170961341877154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/Ryde0w17C6I/AAAAAAAAACA/l5l_IQY9TK8/s320/paisaguia.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Quando eu tinha uns cinco anos&lt;br /&gt;eu era muito baixinha&lt;br /&gt;e pra mim&lt;br /&gt;banheira era piscina,&lt;br /&gt;igreja era arranha-céu,&lt;br /&gt;represa era mar.&lt;br /&gt;Mas eu era tão medrosa&lt;br /&gt;de algumas coisas da vida&lt;br /&gt;que cachorro virou leão&lt;br /&gt;gato virou cachorro&lt;br /&gt;urubu era avião&lt;br /&gt;rato já era gato&lt;br /&gt;barata parecia aranha&lt;br /&gt;aranha era um sufoco&lt;br /&gt;e pulga era só alergia.&lt;br /&gt;Mas tinha também uma coisa&lt;br /&gt;que era boa e era só minha&lt;br /&gt;quando meu primo Casinho&lt;br /&gt;fazia uns papagaios imensos,&lt;br /&gt;bem coloridos e brilhantes&lt;br /&gt;e os colocava no ar.&lt;br /&gt;Daí eu me sentia princesa&lt;br /&gt;rainha de todos os ventos&lt;br /&gt;dona do céu de uma cidade&lt;br /&gt;pequena, no morro e mineira.&lt;br /&gt;Daí o mundo era que era&lt;br /&gt;somente pipas coloridas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5376737166423218620-7348202628337203824?l=contoaconto.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/feeds/7348202628337203824/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5376737166423218620&amp;postID=7348202628337203824' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/7348202628337203824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/7348202628337203824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/2007/10/ta-famlia-oscarzinho.html' title='Êta Família - Oscarzinho'/><author><name>Lourdes Nassif</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01710109270458046525</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXy6yLpiMkI/AAAAAAAAAEY/MyR3slOcGKk/S220/por-do-sol-022.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/Ryde0w17C6I/AAAAAAAAACA/l5l_IQY9TK8/s72-c/paisaguia.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376737166423218620.post-579199907790560803</id><published>2007-10-12T11:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T11:38:12.490-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Menino Difícil</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt; Era um menino que não sabia como falar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/Rw-8tpgJz5I/AAAAAAAAABc/9_Q0-pTAKbI/s1600-h/kid13p.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120518793764392850" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 158px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" height="213" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/Rw-8tpgJz5I/AAAAAAAAABc/9_Q0-pTAKbI/s320/kid13p.gif" width="127" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;e o coração inchava no peito de vontade&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;e depois, murchava.&lt;br /&gt;Era impossível,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;da boca do menino só saía um grande e&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;indeciso: - Ahhhhh!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Êta menino difícil!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Era simples para o menino dizer:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Como vai?", "Até logo!" e "Obrigado!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;mais um grito de contentamento não saía&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;muito menos um berro de raiva.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ele engolia lágrimas, mordia a língua,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;trincava os dentes, roía as unhas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;e não falava o que sentia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Era um desespero!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Daí ele ficou matutando&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;era preciso resolver esse problema.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Pensou uma tarde inteira sentado no meio-fio&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;pensou de noite, deitado, tentando espantar o sono&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;com a enormidade do problema.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;E o problema já estava virando  monstro!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;No outro dia, cedinho, o menino levantou&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;e voou para o banheiro.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Olhou seus olhos no espelho.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Abriu a boca para sua imagem e disse:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Você é um cara legal!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Daí saiu pela casa e foi encontrando pessoas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Eu te adoro, mamãe!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Êh pai, você é um cara batuta!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;E foi falando o que vinha na cabeça&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;e ele não guardava&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;foi soltando pela boca o que o coração mandava.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A avó desse menino, donha Sinhá, é mineira,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;quando viu o ocorrido, ficou toda lampeira&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Ai que bom! O meu netinho deve de ter visto&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;passarinho verde!".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5376737166423218620-579199907790560803?l=contoaconto.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/feeds/579199907790560803/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5376737166423218620&amp;postID=579199907790560803' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/579199907790560803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/579199907790560803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/2007/10/menino-difcil.html' title='Menino Difícil'/><author><name>Lourdes Nassif</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01710109270458046525</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXy6yLpiMkI/AAAAAAAAAEY/MyR3slOcGKk/S220/por-do-sol-022.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/Rw-8tpgJz5I/AAAAAAAAABc/9_Q0-pTAKbI/s72-c/kid13p.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376737166423218620.post-8653558726137005807</id><published>2007-10-12T11:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T11:25:26.859-07:00</updated><title type='text'>História Maluca</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/Rw-6E5gJz4I/AAAAAAAAABU/sYg1r6G6jpc/s1600-h/thumb_chinyumin1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120515894661468034" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 334px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px" height="160" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/Rw-6E5gJz4I/AAAAAAAAABU/sYg1r6G6jpc/s320/thumb_chinyumin1.jpg" width="100" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Eu conheço uma história linda&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;mas que eu não sei contar&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;pois quando chega na metade&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;me bate uma baita dúvida: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;a princesa era o sapo&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;e o príncipe era a pulga?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Tem outra história ótima&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;mas também fico confusa:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;o sapatinho da moça&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;que era tão borralheira&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;era de vidro de doce&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;ou de papel celofane&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;que é um papel bem fininho&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;que daria direitinho&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;pra fazer tal sapatinho?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;E outras mais me confundem,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;o que é que eu posso fazer?,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;confundo chapéuzinho com boina,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;lobo mau com remédio pra tosse,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;gavião com passarinho,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;e ai!, se alguém me escuta!,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;sempre achei que o Pato Donald&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;virou cisne no finzinho&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;de mais de uma historinha.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Só existe uma história&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;difícil de confundir:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;é aquela da mocinha&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;que espeta o dedo na agulha&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;quando está fazendo um lenço&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;e depois dormia cem anos&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;até que sete anõezinhos&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;montados num burrinho branco&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;a levavam adormecida&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;daquele castelo encantado&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;e depois de umas férias no campo&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;respirando o ar tão levinho&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;a moça assustada, acordava,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;e dava pra cada anãozinho,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;uma maçã diferente&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;e eles viravam grilos&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;que toda noite, no campo,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;cantavam na janela da moça&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;pra coitadinha dormir.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Será que me confundi?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5376737166423218620-8653558726137005807?l=contoaconto.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/feeds/8653558726137005807/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5376737166423218620&amp;postID=8653558726137005807' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/8653558726137005807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/8653558726137005807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/2007/10/histria-maluca.html' title='História Maluca'/><author><name>Lourdes Nassif</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01710109270458046525</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXy6yLpiMkI/AAAAAAAAAEY/MyR3slOcGKk/S220/por-do-sol-022.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/Rw-6E5gJz4I/AAAAAAAAABU/sYg1r6G6jpc/s72-c/thumb_chinyumin1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376737166423218620.post-6098944598484404261</id><published>2007-09-29T17:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-29T17:35:05.177-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Livro Bom</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/Rv7uc5gJz2I/AAAAAAAAABE/TsMAE-LPhME/s1600-h/houseofwisdom_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115788406978891618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/Rv7uc5gJz2I/AAAAAAAAABE/TsMAE-LPhME/s320/houseofwisdom_.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Peguei um livro antigo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;e desandei a ler,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;as palavras eram difíceis&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mas me senti importante&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;tentando compreender.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Peguei um livro de contos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;cheio de fadas e príncipes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;e participei de finais&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;que eram&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;do arco da velha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me perdi em viagens estranhas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;junto com seus personagens&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;fui até o centro da terra&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;fui ao outro lado do universo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;fui visitar gnomos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;sentei com gênios das florestas,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;descobri que santos são bravos,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;que carrascos gostam de flores,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;e vi tanta gente maluca&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;tanta coisa diferente&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;me meti em tanta história&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;me transformei em tanta gente&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;que me peguei escrevendo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;para continuar a viagem&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;dos livros que consegui ler.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E fiz cada história misturada&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;que dava vontade de rir...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5376737166423218620-6098944598484404261?l=contoaconto.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/feeds/6098944598484404261/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5376737166423218620&amp;postID=6098944598484404261' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/6098944598484404261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/6098944598484404261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/2007/09/livro-bom.html' title='Livro Bom'/><author><name>Lourdes Nassif</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01710109270458046525</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXy6yLpiMkI/AAAAAAAAAEY/MyR3slOcGKk/S220/por-do-sol-022.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/Rv7uc5gJz2I/AAAAAAAAABE/TsMAE-LPhME/s72-c/houseofwisdom_.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376737166423218620.post-7719084061641576296</id><published>2007-09-12T14:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-12T14:59:14.759-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Brincadeira</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/Ruhf4SzpniI/AAAAAAAAAA8/_TlXtDZbcts/s1600-h/fantasia-dinossauro-~-fop003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109439197977615906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/Ruhf4SzpniI/AAAAAAAAAA8/_TlXtDZbcts/s320/fantasia-dinossauro-~-fop003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Quando me sinto sozinha&lt;br /&gt;eu brinco com meu dinossauro.&lt;br /&gt;Não ria, pois é verdade&lt;br /&gt;e eu te conto como é.&lt;br /&gt;Levante sua mãozinha&lt;br /&gt;e olhe bem seus dedinhos:&lt;br /&gt;são cinco, de vários tamanhos&lt;br /&gt;que quando estão contra a luz&lt;br /&gt;viram dedos de gigante.&lt;br /&gt;Fique olhando a parede&lt;br /&gt;a mão na frente da lâmpada&lt;br /&gt;(é assim que ela cresce&lt;br /&gt;até se tornar tão grande).&lt;br /&gt;Coloque os cinco dedinhos&lt;br /&gt;todos virados pra baixo&lt;br /&gt;(como se fosse um banquinho:&lt;br /&gt;a mão, lá em cima, é o estofo&lt;br /&gt;e os dedos, lá em baixo,&lt;br /&gt;os pezinhos).&lt;br /&gt;Daí então levante,&lt;br /&gt;mas bem devagarinho,&lt;br /&gt;aquele dedo do meio&lt;br /&gt;o mais alto, o mais grandinho.&lt;br /&gt;E quando ele estiver lá em cima,&lt;br /&gt;o mais alto que conseguir,&lt;br /&gt;vire devagar a cabeça&lt;br /&gt;e olhe para a parede.&lt;br /&gt;Mas não se assuste com ele&lt;br /&gt;é só um dinossaurinho&lt;br /&gt;feito com cinco dedinhos&lt;br /&gt;contra a luz, lá na parede&lt;br /&gt;que vira seu brinquedinho&lt;br /&gt;toda hora que você,&lt;br /&gt;lá no fundo, bemno fundo,&lt;br /&gt;se sentir assim tristonho,&lt;br /&gt;se sentir muito sozinho...&lt;br /&gt;Daí achou um amiguinho!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5376737166423218620-7719084061641576296?l=contoaconto.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/feeds/7719084061641576296/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5376737166423218620&amp;postID=7719084061641576296' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/7719084061641576296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/7719084061641576296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/2007/09/brincadeira.html' title='Brincadeira'/><author><name>Lourdes Nassif</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01710109270458046525</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXy6yLpiMkI/AAAAAAAAAEY/MyR3slOcGKk/S220/por-do-sol-022.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/Ruhf4SzpniI/AAAAAAAAAA8/_TlXtDZbcts/s72-c/fantasia-dinossauro-~-fop003.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376737166423218620.post-5063247575485513442</id><published>2007-09-11T12:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-12T14:49:10.957-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Segunda-Feira</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RubuopM8KgI/AAAAAAAAAAs/4NKFerRTqsU/s1600-h/Ik010.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109033209320712706" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 156px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px" height="225" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RubuopM8KgI/AAAAAAAAAAs/4NKFerRTqsU/s320/Ik010.gif" width="224" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/Rubs65M8KfI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Ewf4efzodFI/s1600-h/kid10_peq.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109031323830069746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 135px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 218px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="218" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/Rubs65M8KfI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Ewf4efzodFI/s320/kid10_peq.gif" width="47" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Hoje tá frio... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me encolho na coberta pra ver se o sol aparece mais depressa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Hoje tá frio...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Ainda é noite lá fora e o galo da vizinhajá ligou seu despertador. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;E ele fica cocoricando arretado!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Hoje tá frio...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;E se eu olhasse pela janela veria cem estrelas a me piscar "Vem, vem cá brincar!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Hoje tá frio...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;E pensar que eu tenho aula quando o dia clarear&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;ter que sair do quentinho, colocar o uniforme gelado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;tentar engolir leite morno, morder o pão lambuzado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;gritar para o cachorro parar de latir no meu ouvido&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;brigar com o irmão mais novo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;pedir lanche pro recreio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;fazer cara de descontente, careta pra escovar os dentes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;arranjar desculpa na escola, por não ter feito os deveres&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;fazer fila no banheiro,fazer fila lá no pátio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;apagar o quadro-negro e me encher todo de pó&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;e no fim de tanta coisa, esperar o meio-dia &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;dar um tchau pra todo mundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;e rir feliz quando for&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;no campinho jogar bola.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5376737166423218620-5063247575485513442?l=contoaconto.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/feeds/5063247575485513442/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5376737166423218620&amp;postID=5063247575485513442' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/5063247575485513442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/5063247575485513442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/2007/09/segunda-feira.html' title='Segunda-Feira'/><author><name>Lourdes Nassif</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01710109270458046525</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXy6yLpiMkI/AAAAAAAAAEY/MyR3slOcGKk/S220/por-do-sol-022.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RubuopM8KgI/AAAAAAAAAAs/4NKFerRTqsU/s72-c/Ik010.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376737166423218620.post-2341466631008898072</id><published>2007-09-05T10:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-12T14:43:55.988-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mari-Mari-Mariana</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RuhcSyzpnhI/AAAAAAAAAA0/0VQsUb-zNNg/s1600-h/mulher-afixando-bicicleta-~-u12130521.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109435255197638162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RuhcSyzpnhI/AAAAAAAAAA0/0VQsUb-zNNg/s320/mulher-afixando-bicicleta-~-u12130521.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Eu conheço uma menina&lt;br /&gt;que ganhou uma bicicleta&lt;br /&gt;e ficou tão contente&lt;br /&gt;tão eufórica, tão alegre&lt;br /&gt;que não sabia o que fazer:&lt;br /&gt;se subia pelas paredes&lt;br /&gt;abria a janela e gritava&lt;br /&gt;ou entrava na geladeira&lt;br /&gt;só pra ver se de tão contente&lt;br /&gt;tão feliz que ela estava&lt;br /&gt;não virava um picolé&lt;br /&gt;daqueles bem vermelhinhos&lt;br /&gt;que podeia até ser de morango.&lt;br /&gt;Ela ficou tão... tão... tão alegre&lt;br /&gt;ela ficou tão feliz&lt;br /&gt;que não sabia o que dizer.&lt;br /&gt;Chegou perto de sua mãe&lt;br /&gt;mas não abraçou, só beliscou;&lt;br /&gt;foi pra perto de seu pai&lt;br /&gt;mas não beijou, só fugiu;&lt;br /&gt;quis acordar a irmãzinha&lt;br /&gt;telefonar para a avó&lt;br /&gt;quis chamar a vizinha&lt;br /&gt;apitar para o guarda-noturno&lt;br /&gt;cantar que nem passarinho&lt;br /&gt;até que ela ouviu:&lt;br /&gt;"Mariana já é tarde&lt;br /&gt;larga tudo e vem dormir".&lt;br /&gt;Daí ela levou um susto&lt;br /&gt;pois jurava ter visto&lt;br /&gt;o mundo todo clarinho&lt;br /&gt;com um baita sol lá no céu.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5376737166423218620-2341466631008898072?l=contoaconto.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/feeds/2341466631008898072/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5376737166423218620&amp;postID=2341466631008898072' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/2341466631008898072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/2341466631008898072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/2007/09/mari-mari-mariana.html' title='Mari-Mari-Mariana'/><author><name>Lourdes Nassif</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01710109270458046525</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXy6yLpiMkI/AAAAAAAAAEY/MyR3slOcGKk/S220/por-do-sol-022.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RuhcSyzpnhI/AAAAAAAAAA0/0VQsUb-zNNg/s72-c/mulher-afixando-bicicleta-~-u12130521.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376737166423218620.post-7214099824700508331</id><published>2007-08-14T18:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T18:18:52.715-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Sapa</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RsJT2VARh8I/AAAAAAAAAAc/oOW-0fagx8Q/s1600-h/Jessie_M_King__The_Frog_Prince.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098729920953157570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RsJT2VARh8I/AAAAAAAAAAc/oOW-0fagx8Q/s320/Jessie_M_King__The_Frog_Prince.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;O sapo da Guta é uma sapa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;mas não pula&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tem boca e não coaxa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tem dedos mas nada segura.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;É uma sapa engraçada&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;com bumbum bem redondinho.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tem cabelo espevitado&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;e a boca, imaginem,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;pintadinha, pintadinha,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;como se fosse mocinha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A sapa da Guta é uma sapa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;por ter laço vermelhinho.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;E se o laço fosse azul?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Não combinava com nada&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;no verdinho da sapinha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;E como toda sapa maluca&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;ela nem nome tem ainda&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;mas podem acreditar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;é verdade&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;ela tem até madrinha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Agora fiquei na dúvida&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;ao contar essa historinha&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;a maluca é a sapa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;ou a dona da sapinha?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Agora escolha, Gutinha!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5376737166423218620-7214099824700508331?l=contoaconto.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/feeds/7214099824700508331/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5376737166423218620&amp;postID=7214099824700508331' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/7214099824700508331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/7214099824700508331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/2007/08/sapa.html' title='A Sapa'/><author><name>Lourdes Nassif</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01710109270458046525</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXy6yLpiMkI/AAAAAAAAAEY/MyR3slOcGKk/S220/por-do-sol-022.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RsJT2VARh8I/AAAAAAAAAAc/oOW-0fagx8Q/s72-c/Jessie_M_King__The_Frog_Prince.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376737166423218620.post-4220097943050788498</id><published>2007-08-14T17:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T18:03:15.740-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Silêncio...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RsJQJVARh7I/AAAAAAAAAAU/ObnQw-DHH6A/s1600-h/tools10p.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098725849324160946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RsJQJVARh7I/AAAAAAAAAAU/ObnQw-DHH6A/s320/tools10p.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Silêncio!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A casa dorme&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;e, bem quietinha,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;caminha só&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;uma Idéia Luminosa.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Vai devagarinho&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;bem de levinho&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;passando por todos os quartos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Papai roncando não quer nem saber&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mamãe pensa somente no tricô&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A irmã mais velha só vê o namorado&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;O irmãozinho nem sabe andar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Quietinha, a Idéia Luminosa,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;passa pela cama do menino&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;que começa a ter sonhos formidáveis.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5376737166423218620-4220097943050788498?l=contoaconto.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/feeds/4220097943050788498/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5376737166423218620&amp;postID=4220097943050788498' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/4220097943050788498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/4220097943050788498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/2007/08/silncio.html' title='Silêncio...'/><author><name>Lourdes Nassif</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01710109270458046525</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXy6yLpiMkI/AAAAAAAAAEY/MyR3slOcGKk/S220/por-do-sol-022.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RsJQJVARh7I/AAAAAAAAAAU/ObnQw-DHH6A/s72-c/tools10p.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376737166423218620.post-829206389474442720</id><published>2007-08-14T17:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T17:57:08.814-07:00</updated><title type='text'>As Mãos de Clarinha</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RsJNy1ARh6I/AAAAAAAAAAM/4r4AKelrs9w/s1600-h/kid4_peq.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098723263753848738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 96px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 147px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="72" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RsJNy1ARh6I/AAAAAAAAAAM/4r4AKelrs9w/s320/kid4_peq.gif" width="78" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Clarinha estava muito preocupada &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;com suas mãozinhas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Ela estava desconfiada,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;já tinha quase certeza,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;que todo dia de noite&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;a mão direita brigava com a esquerda.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Era uma coisa chata&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;isso de briga de mãos,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;pois se as duas caíssem de tapa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;alguma mão mais nervosa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;poderia acertar um tabefe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;em qualquer outra parte do corpo &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;que não estivesse na briga.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;E Clarinha pensou muito,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;pensou uma tarde inteira,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;tentando achar uma maneira&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;de não deixar as mãozinhas´&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;baterem na perna, cabeça,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;e até quem sabe, ai que dor!,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;em algum lugar mais doído&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;ali perto do nariz.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Daí lá pelo fim da tarde,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;já bem de tardezinha,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Clarinha encontrou a solução:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;já que as duas mãos brigavam,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;não suportavam se ver,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;ela arranjou uma calça&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;com um bolso de cada lado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;e guardou cada mãozinha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;ali, bem escondidinha,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;pra acabar com o perigo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;das duas se debaterem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;E daí foi um sossego!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5376737166423218620-829206389474442720?l=contoaconto.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/feeds/829206389474442720/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5376737166423218620&amp;postID=829206389474442720' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/829206389474442720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5376737166423218620/posts/default/829206389474442720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contoaconto.blogspot.com/2007/08/as-mos-de-clarinha.html' title='As Mãos de Clarinha'/><author><name>Lourdes Nassif</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01710109270458046525</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/SXy6yLpiMkI/AAAAAAAAAEY/MyR3slOcGKk/S220/por-do-sol-022.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BuYyx8gdsqA/RsJNy1ARh6I/AAAAAAAAAAM/4r4AKelrs9w/s72-c/kid4_peq.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
