On the final day of school holidays, I came through with the mother of all homemade child activities - Playdoh. Please note that I said HOME MADE. As in I made it myself. I did have to Google the recipe and instructions, but I still followed through with making it even after finding it required more than 2 ingredients and 5 minutes of effort.
The plus side of making my own is that it gave my tuck shop arms/wings a great workout in kneading the dough. I did consider making my own bread for the same reasons, but ruled that one out after Googling that and finding it had considerably more steps and ingredients. Don't got the time (can't be assed).
I can see a visible reduction in my wing-span. By my calculations, only another 4,387 batches of Playdoh until I am buff and able to wear sleeveless clothing. For the first time ever. Once I've finished on my wings, I'll move on to my Mummy Tummy and start some heavy duty dough kneading via sit ups. Just hope I don't lose the dough in all that...err....tummy. Okay maybe a losing battle, so probably won't bother with that region. Instead, I will just keep saying "no I'm not actually pregnant AGAIN, I just look like I am" whenever asked.
So anyway it's the last day of school holidays, and not only have we all survived (mostly due to the 3+ weeks in Bali, where the kids were wrangled by their lovely Nanny who is A1 at the parenting type role), but we are all still begrudging buddies. Most of the time.
Anywho, the Playdoh went down a treat.
I was convinced Miss5 would hoard every colour but green (to which she has a violent aversion, associating it with such horrifying things as broccoli and spinach).
Miss2 I expected to hoard all the Playdoh she could steal off her siblings, just because. Because it would be a show of power. Because she likes any excuse for an evil "ha ha ha" at her siblings.
Mstr2 I expected to sit in the corner and alternate between eating it, shoving it in any available orifice, and raging at it with one of his trademark tantrums, for no apparent reason.
Instead, Miss5 sat at the table and did not mix the colours. This is progress for her, and therefore I am again positive about her future artistic abilities and career. Watch this space, I could become like those parents that flog their offspring's artwork as abstract genius.
Miss2 wandered around only stealing the stray blobs that were walked into the tiles. Which was actually quite helpful since, otherwise, I would've had to do that job. Occasionally she liberated more from her siblings, but they were wise to her plan and simply stole more from her other hand than she was stealing with the one hand.
Mstr2 sat at the kiddy table and shoved the Playdoh into zip lock lunch bags. Handy if I run out of snacks for Miss5 now that she's returned to school. He also commandeered all the Playdoh utensils, even though he has no idea what to do with a Playdoh puppy, star cutter, or any of the shapes. He is vicious in his toddler-barking if his siblings dare look at any of his amassed Playdoh bounty. He was quite literally strumming his fingers on the table like a smug Playdoh overlord.
It was a blissfully peaceful and joyous 20 minutes. Until I realised the pink was missing. Now I have to go and locate it. My first point of call will be checking every opening on their little bodies. Sincerely hoping that is a fruitless search and retrieval exercise.
Slightly less Domestic Goddess Super Mum than I was 45 minutes prior when I started Googling the whole Playdoh thing.