B woke me up at 7am this morning, raring to go. Before 7:30 am, we had already blown bubbles outside and played with PlayDough.
Maybe it’s a girl thing, or just a ‘me’ thing, but when I was little I couldn’t bear to have my PlayDough colors mixed up. (I also didn’t like my food to touch. My grandmother would joke that it was a shame they didn’t make divided plates for adults.) B’s PlayDough, with the exception of a few pieces of purple that are still hanging in, is almost uniformly brown, and he likes it just fine that way. Go figure.
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