Fluffy, floam, butter, glitter, and activator — what comes to mind when you hear those words? If you don’t yell out “Ugh, slime!” then you need some schooling on the new preteen arts-and-crafts world.
Unfortunately, this crazy trend of making gooey, doughy, or, my least favorite, chunky, has taken over a multitude of households. Every child, boy or girl, is “doing slime.”
Slime is a messy concoction usually made when a parent has turned her back for two seconds. Then, before the chance to yell, “Not in my house!” mixing bowls, spoons, measuring cups, an obscene amount of glue, paint, food coloring, perfumed oils, storage containers and glitter take over the kitchen table.
It’s evil; I warn you.
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Since my girls already had grown out of the Play-Doh phase and Silly Putty never kept their attention, they were long due for a fun craft. But why this sticky slime stuff?
According to them, it’s amazing and “so satisfying.” As they quickly stick 10 fingers in and out of their creation, temporary magic holes are left. These indentations inform the child if the consistency is right or if they need to continue their chemistry experiment of kneading, stretching, popping, and spreading the slime.
The first slime that entered our home was purchased at school. Yes, one savvy kid, who wanted to cash-in early on this fanatical trend began taking orders at the middle school.
From what I could only imagine, she was spending every waking hour elbow deep in the goo. That is until her business boomed and slime was forbidden on school property for all.
You know it’s a problem when it’s banned at school.
My eldest daughter chose to spend her hard-earned allowance money on essentially a tub of glue.
“Mom, this girl’s butter slime doesn’t even have glue!” she pleaded.
“Please tell me it doesn’t use real butter ... ” wondering why my child was overly interested in this purchase.
“Hers is a really soft slime, and smells like peaches, and you can spread it!”
“On toast?” I asked mildly interested.
“Ugh! Really, mom —everybody’s doing it.”
After my bridge-jumping analysis came to a screeching halt with my child’s newly developed eye roll, I pulled out my modern day encyclopedia: Wikipedia.
Apparently, this trend wasn’t new. Youth around the world had been floaming the heck out of slime, by adding tiny Styrofoam balls to their concoctions. I’m fairly certain they were also stealing their mothers’ Tupperware for storage.
After the power of that first container of modeling clay and lotion took my daughters’ souls, they were determined to make their own. Every day. Using all of their allowance on mega-jugs of Elmer’s, shaving cream and contact solution.
The kids of the world were gladly stepping away from their screens to join the slime revolution or, as I called it, their crack habit.
I didn’t realize their entertainment had gone out of control until I found one of my kitchen cabinets had been taken over by what looked like a horror film produced in a Michaels craft store. Shelves of supplies, extra add-ins, and oh, look ... all of my food containers!
Missing a measuring spoon? Try the Slime Shed.
It’s not only taking over my kitchen, but it’s slowly taking over our life. Music videos and Instagram photos are flooding social media. Replacing cute pics of puppies and kitties, you are slammed with plastic containers filled with brightly colored blobs.
My girls keep asking me to touch one of their prized slime concoctions.
“Okay ... (fingers immersed) nothing. I got nothing,” I repeat.
My daughter looks up at me and says, “Isn’t it satisfying?”
“No, not doing it for me,” I say. “Give me a warm taste of brownies, with a scoop of ice cream melting over the top. Now that’s satisfying!”
Actually, the only time slime will be satisfying for me is the day the slime fad dies. The day I get my kitchen cabinet back and the house doesn’t smell like rancid roses with a hint of peppermint. So satisfying!
Stacey Hatton can be reached at www.laughingwithkids.com.