I am not a fan of Playdough.
.... there, I said it. I kind of feel like a bit of a failure in the motherhood stakes for having this attitude.
Its not that I have anything against play dough in terms of principle or value as a plaything.
Its just me ... well its the mess ... I can't pinpoint exactly what it is.
Its something that just makes my stress levels rise.
This level of Mess makes me anxious.
I used to get tied up in knots about the colours getting mixed.
I throw my hands in the air now and say well c'est la vie! ( with a sigh )
In the holidays Little Mr asked hopefully "Mum can I play with the play dough?"
My insides knotted, I took a breath, I saw an opportunity for him to have fun, for me to surprise him, for him to experience delight, I exhaled and said 'Yes.'
He said 'What? ' in disbelief
We hauled out the extensive collection of Play dough.
Before too long my anxiety started to rise, there was play dough everywhere including stuck on soles of shoes. I have tried limiting the number of colours but when in a creative frenzy I get asked 'please just one more colour' I say OK... I have already let they play with it so then who am I to interfere with the creative process.
I feel squirmy & uncomfortable looking at these pictures. It's an actual physical reaction I have. My shoulders tense and curl, my stomach knots and its a very uncomfortable irritable kind of feeling. I can't rationalise why this happens. I'm by no means an OCD clean house kind of person and I do derive joy from seeing what they create and how they create with this tactile medium. I can play with it, I can touch it. Its all the tiny pieces that give me the feeling, and the thought of them.
That my friends is all I can say on the subject as I now need to break the anxiety that writing this post and seeing those images has given rise to.
Rationally I think its so bizarre and it bothers me I can't seem to change it.