Every once and a while in the parenting experience, we actually get to do one of the things we'd envisioned doing before we became parents. It might be taking an idyllic stroller ride, or jumping in the leaves, catching snowflakes on our tongue, watching our child meet Santa Claus or going fishing. I have long cherished the idea that I would be the kind of mother that, when our outdoor plans were ruined by rain (as they were on Saturday), I would make play-dough from scratch for my kid to play with on the kitchen floor. My mother was That Kind of Mother, and I aspired to be that kind too.
Then I became a working mom, I've been a bit concerned lately that I might become a just-good-enough mom. The kind that makes sure her kid eats healthily enough, doesn't watch tv much, and refrains from saying anything too unrepeatable in front of him. It was hugely satisfying to me that, despite the fact that I have an 8-5 job every weekday, on weekends I'm sometimes still up to being That Kind of Mom. (I promise you this wouldn't be the case if I were still teaching).
Behold: the homemade play-dough!
Unfortunately, Miles is 14 months old and not quite ready to be enthralled by play-dough. He's still trying to bust through the baby-locks and open stuff.
I did finally get him to acknowledge it. He enjoyed fitting it into his barrel-o-monkeys barrel.
I discovered with glee, like the child that I am, that you can make monkey imprints with the barrel and the play-dough.
Miles is unimpressed, however. He discovered the broom sitting idle and would not be parted from it for a long time. He was really and truly wiping it across the floor, especially by the cat dish, like he sees me do. I should be touched, I guess :-)
All in all, we spent about ten minutes actually playing with it.
At least I know I can make play-dough on a Saturday.
