Oh, boy, here comes my most boringest post ever. But if they still don’t like me, boring or funny, serious or ruefully tongue in cheek, then f— ’em, right? Okay, then, here goes:
There are just days like this. When I’m up late worrying or grousing or fretting or frenetically doing, and when I wake up slowly and painfully at the ungodly hour my kid demands (and he read in his bed for an hour before dragging me into the kitchen today, so yay four hours instead of three).
Today’s one of those days. And we can’t go anywhere because they’re ripping out a window in Peanut’s room and making it much bigger so it’ll meet fire code. Yay fire safety.
So I made a huge pot of play dough, and we’re going to town. Because all those things I worried about last night—all those people I wanted to excise from my life—they don’t matter. This little whirlwind of learning and growing does.
Plus he kisses me when he’s been rude, which is more than I can say for the rest of the planet.**
in a big pot stir:
4 C flour
1/2 C salt
1/2 C cream of tartar
4 C water
Cook on low/medium until it’s not sticky.
**You’re damned right. I just got all perspective-y then posted a playdough recipe. I’ve gone soft in the head. So? Ya wanna fight?