My parents never allowed Play-Doh in the house while I was growing up. They were adamant that we not own the game Mouse Trap either. Something about Play-Doh in the carpet and tiny game pieces. They also gave away our dog, Otto, to our vet when we moved from Kentucky. Imagine the tears of a 10 year old boy when he came home from school and was told he would never see the family dog again...he never got to say goodbye...I'll save that for another post. :)
Anyway, Karen had to replace our Play-Doh because it dries out after a while. Here is James' latest creation:
James was happy.
And this is what happens after only a few moments of play time:
It was a quick death for the birdie. But at least it didn't get in the carpet. :)
3 comments:
I think I know see a little better how Holly's bird died.
You are bird killer, David.
It's time to come clean.
BTW, I asked James today if he made that bird by himself. He said "no"...that YOU helped him.
Bird killer.
(oh, but how cute is that James!)
For the record, it was DAD that didn't allow those things. Dad, Dad, Dad. And if you recall, the Lincoln Logs weren't allowed either. And what does Grandma now have in the grandchildren's toy chest? Lincoln Logs. So rest assured, your mother wanted you to have a happy childhood. Now I do have to admit that the dog was my idea. However, who took care of the dog? Who walked the dog? Who felt sorry for the dog? Who fed the dog? Who gave the dog to the dog groomer who absolutely loved the dog and promised to feed, walk, play with, care for and everything else about the dog. Hmmmmmmmmm. Guess the mom and dad just didn't really want another child that was really a dog.
What's mom's point? :)
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