My dad would freak if he saw how nice we were being to snails this weekend. He used to chuck those things over the fence into the irrigation ditch behind his garden or find all kinds of different poisons to send them to their foamy demise. We were as nice as a couple of kids could be to some snails. We had a Slircus, a slimy circus (aka a snircus, a circus for snails). We collected snails, built them circus-y things to do and climb on, and set aside a morning to watch them and hopefully not put anything disgusting into the little one's mouth. Most of our fun was in waking up and finding snails in our pijamas. Snails only come out in the early morning before it dries out and gets hot, so we had to be quiet around our apartment complex around people's windows and yards collecting our circus performers. Asher would spot one and yell, "Nail! Nail!" Our neighborhood kids think our apartment complex is friggin' Six Flags most of the time anyways, so our Slircus makes a little noise one Saturday morning? They'll live.
We put them in their cages with some high protein energy food (leaves) so they could build their strength for all of the work they'd be doing in their circus acts. We had a circus-y looking top for them to spin on, we made a tight rope, got some paint out and some paper plates they could paint on, and have a merry go round ride if they wanted, and other various things for them to crawl on. There was great joy in watching them spin around (a little too fast on the top, but they seem to have amazing grip), poking their eyes in, watching their incredible tight rope skills, and making friends with our little Slircus performers.
But things took a macabre turn when the little one started stomping on them whenever he could get them on their own. He's not heavy enough to really squash them, so I had to put them out of their misery, and I'm just too sensitive to animals to handle this. I wanted to cry. Then when we wanted to have them "paint" I plopped one down into some red paint, it started to bubble up, Jonas gets all excited saying its starting to spit with glee, probably at the prospect of the joy of painting, more than dying a slow and painful death, which was likely what I was subjecting him to. But I know that snails aren't supposed to percolate- I grew up with three older brothers, I've seen all kinds of insect torture. Once they caught a giant fly, super glued it to a lego, put it in the microwave to watch its wings flutter, then threw it over the balcony of the apartment. I washed off the snail, he was fine when I checked on him over an hour later. (my Dad is shaking his head right now) This was a fun way to spend a Saturday morning, and aside from the snail stomping, a nice closeup lesson with nature.
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No matter how many real instruments we have in our house, my oldest is always begging to "make" an instrument. Its usually rubber bands around a stacking block, but I decided to get involved and make a whole day out of it. Least complicated was the whole wax paper on the toilet paper tube kazoo, secured with a rubber band, then the dried beans or rice in paper plates stapled together (the plates we used were particularly noisy so my husband put the kibosh on those pretty quick). We got a little more complicated when we took the rubber band guitar a step further and made the floppy guitar with macaroni boxes and said rubber bands. This was the most popular for the longest amount of time. We then made a colorful glass xylophone and Jonas was really able to make some songs after I tuned it a bit. Most complicated was this flute. So complicated it took me a few days to want to get out the drill and figure it out. We had to take a trip to Home Depot for the pvc pipe, then get the energy to make the whole dern thing. Sadly, the thing that took the most effort worked the least well. The boys still have fun pretending that it makes amazing sounds. There is some tutorial on how to play it, and someone with more fluting experience might have better luck than I did, but its not about me, now is it. 
