Friday, May 22, 2009

Play Dohn't



I am not a fan of Play Doh. The kids enjoy creating things with it though. None of which are ever recognizable.
For example, “Honey, what’s that you’ve made, a snake?”
“No, it’s a horse.”
“Right. Of course it is. My bad. That is fantastic.”

I’ve learned to allow the kids to inform me of their creations rather than try to guess it. I don’t want to discourage their creativity. Having said that, they are horrible sculptors at this point.

Play Doh’s smell is absolutely nauseating to me. I’ve never been able to tolerate it for very long. I’ve felt that way since I was a young lad. I can’t imagine what it tastes like. Fortunately, I’ve never caught my children attempting to eat it either. No parent wants their child to be that kid.

However, I vividly remember an incident that occurred in my 2nd grade Sunday school class that really stuck with me. The pastor’s fanatical son, Scotty, sliced up a half dozen pieces of various colors and slurped them down one by one. He even seemed to enjoy it. He was a weird kid. And apparently he lacked the ability to taste. He was a weird, tasteless kid. I’m sure paste eating was another dietary hobby of his as well. As I understand it, paste is usually the introductory drug that leads to other such experimentation. (i.e. Play Doh, worms, Chap Stick etc.)

We find this pseudo clay all over the place after the kids finish making their distorted animals and other warped abstract configurations. I frequently find the dried bits and pieces in various locations other than where the kids were using it. It seems to travel around somehow.(similar to the Easter Grass - see "Easter Remnants" post)

The crusty leftover wisps disgust me even more than the pungent freshly opened kind. Play Doh scraps always have hair, crumbs, and other unmentionables infused into them. What starts out as being a creative means for children to unleash their imaginations inevitably ends up a germ infested, unusable, rock hard clump of grossness.

Have a great Memorial Day weekend everyone. Even you, Scotty, wherever you are.