I used this title in the loosest sense of the word, as helping was probably the last thing that happened. I had this lovely idea that we would make play dough together. That my son would stand patiently watching me and follow my instructions, stirring at the right moment and adding the ingredients to the pan at my nod. Notice I said the word patiently there.
Seriously, after nearly 16 years of being a mum and working with children what was I thinking? I should have remembered that patience doesn’t kick in until you can bribe them to hold off in the hope of bigger better things (or threats in the worst case scenario!)
I should have remembered that nothing could possibly be better than diving into a gloopy, messy mixture (damn those messy play sessions) with both hands then rubbing it on the worktop.
I should have known that the minute I reached for a tea towel to mop up the mess, that the minute my back was turned he’d start eating it.
I should have been prepared for the fact that we’d spend more time making THE most stressful batch of play dough in the history of this glorious pokey mush than actually playing with it.
And I should have preempted that most of it would be thrown at the dog who sat poised in his usual waiting spot under the highchair.
Next week’s activity; stickers.