On Sunday, I toted home 50 lbs of Play-Doh. Oh, wait. I need some sort of disclaimer in fine print:
I am under the impression that I can legally mention my ardent adoration for Play-Doh here without the FTC confiscating one child (or both, if I am so lucky) OR having my ads yanked OR a Gentle Reader questioning my ethics OR relinquishing my box seat in heaven to the Dark Lord because Hello! I have spent a small nation's GDP on Play-Doh already. Are you with me? And yes, I thought to myself as I crammed box after box of chewing gum into my bags "Kelli, we already have enough Play-Doh at home, why lug yet more home? Is fresh breath not more of a priority here?" Then, I answered to myself "Kelli, you are cheap and cannot leave $20 worth of Play-Doh. Be one with your frugality, Kelli. BE ONE."
So! Anyway! Whatever!
I load up the Play-Doh in my suitcase, bring it home and then watch my kids completely lose their ever-loving minds over this stuff. Imagine chimps having a Feces Fest. Arun and Anjali's reaction was along similar lines with the same amount of teeth-baring and shrieking, albeit far less malodorous (mmmmm, PLAY-DOH . The very smell of childhood, no?) It was a crazy sight to behold - you would suspect Team Chaos had never seen Play-Doh before. As if there was already not pink and green Play-Doh firmly entrenched in our carpet (The same carpet also known as "The Jackson Pollack tribute")
As I pry hardened pebbles of dough off the soles of my feet, I cannot help but remember the Play-Doh Hair Salon from my own childhood. I would carefully cram dough up the character's butt, then slowly turn the crank to squeeze the mush through teensy holes in the character's head. After using thick plastic scissors to cut the squishy tendrils, I would zhoosh the hair into something resembling a "style" (or so I thought) But alas, Ken Paves I was not, so I put the scissors down and eventually ground my way through business school. A better use for society, to be sure.
It is Thursday, all of the free Play-Doh has dried and hardened. Loose lids are strewn about, forlorn. I dig more dough from our never-ending cache out of the hall closet, lift off the lid of a fresh container and inhale.
The smell always takes me back.