New Research Links Baby Puke To Great Skin!

A couple of years ago my mother thought it would be just awesome to get Luna some Playdough for a holiday gift.  She only got her a few canisters, small ones at that, but Luna still managed to embed the dough in the carpet even while being supervised.  I decided Playdough was not going to be on my approved list.  Of course, I’m not presumptuous enough to send such a list out to everyone who might be purchasing gifts for my children.  Instead, incoming gifts that don’t meet my criteria get put away for special times instead of everyday play.

So this year, when my sister’s gifts to Luna included RoseArt Fun Dough, I quickly tucked the canisters into the art box husband got Luna.

On the 14th, I decided it could be a special dough time.  I got the canisters out and lined them up on the table.

Luna was thrilled!  She wasn’t quite patiently waiting as I broke the seals on the canisters to get to the pliable colorful fun inside.

It wasn’t quite the disaster I’d thought it would be this time.  I did have to reprimand her a few times for dropping stuff on the floor and for trying to mix the colors of dough together (I’m sorry, but that’s just not done, then you have one big ball of tie-dye-looking goop), but we got to build things and goof off.

She kept asking me to make a snake.  I tried to show her how to roll the dough under the palm of your hand so that it resembles a snake or worm, but she liked it better when I did it and then coiled my snake up and had its tail sticking up in the air.

I made fake cookies and fake people for her.  She really loved my dough-turtle, but she ripped his head off.

The canisters had shapes in the lids that you could press the dough on, so she tried that a few times, but she still liked it better when I did it.

After a bit, I got tired of her squashing things she’d asked me to make, so I told her to make her own shapes and I’d make mine.  I started getting bored, because there’s only so much I can do with play dough, so I made myself a W and stuck it on my forehead.

I texted the image to my sister, “Winner? Wonder Woman? Weirdo?”  She texted back that I was a dork.

“Hey,” I texted back,” That doesn’t start with a W.”

“Coo coo ca choo?”

“Huh?”

Then she tried to explain to me that she was attempting to reference the Beetles’ song, “I Am The Walrus.”

I told her I knew the song, and jokingly accused her of making a fat joke, or perhaps she’d made a “bad teeth” joke?  She insisted it was just her attempt to reference the song.

Today, while looking up things for this post, I discovered that she’d texted the wrong lyrics.  She’d referenced “Mrs. Robinson” instead, which, had I realized that, would have made her joke confusing.

In addition to playtime with Luna, I cuddled with Freya today and got to be a puke bucket.  It’s always nice to feel useful…the title of this post is not true, not even in the slightest, but wouldn’t it be awesome if it was?

On the 13th, awesomeness happened, but not in the form of scientific research linking baby puke to great skin, but still, awesomeness.

I got into grad school.

No, not the online professional writing one I’d been hyping up on facebook.  No, not the creative writing one at Woo Pig Sooie.

I got into the one I got pushed off the porch trying to get to the other day!  It’s a Master’s of Arts in English if I work hard for the next two years.

Judy Garland–And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.

View the full blog at heartchasms.blogspot.com and like the blog on Facebook.

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