Although I have now been a mom for six-and-a-half years, I somehow never presented my kids with playdough. I am not sure why, but I think this is because:
1) There was no play-doh in the Soviet Union.
2) I never played with it as a child (see above).
That is, never until that fine April day when Josie expressed a burning desire for some, and I set out to fulfill it.
They don’t call it “the cruelest month” for nothing.
I know that mine looks kinda crumbly – I was working with one of the recipes on this website and didn’t follow the instructions for the uncooked variety closely enough. But it didn’t matter – my kids loved it anyway (my floor – not so much).
That’s just the thing with kids: they don’t care if you don’t do things perfectly.
They just want you to do them every once in a while.
And to be there.
Cyrus has a bit of a one-track mind (or, in his case, a two-track mind): in his imagination, everything that lands in front of him becomes either a cooking ingredient or a vehicle.
This dough may be for playing only, but it doesn’t mean that it can’t be shaped into cookies (many thanks to Josie’s godmother Julie for these great kid-friendly cookie cutters).
Course, it ain’t a Jew if there isn’t a Star of David in there somewhere:
Cyrus is really into quality control. Here he is assessing the thickness of the product…
Then rolls it a little thinner…
And evaluates it once more.
He didn’t get this from me!