I took Evie to tour a preschool last week in the hopes to get her excited to finally go to school in the fall. School is not something she wants to do and any time I mention it she declines the idea and says she wants to “stay home with momma instead.” This tour was my attempt to show her, in a non-threatening way, that school could be fun, and she could make friends her age who aren’t dogs. However, while at the school, she clung to me like a koala almost the whole time and was not at all impressed by the other kids or their activities, no matter how much I, or the pre-K director tried to sell them to her. Evie wanted to leave and go back home or to the playground.
Sitting in the director’s office, I got choked up talking to her about my concern with Evie needing to socialize and separate from me a bit. I know this will be hard for her at first and I’m not looking forward to the frownie face and tears that will undoubtedly come. While almost crying myself, I glanced over in the corner of the room and noticed a pretty cool slime kit. Evie had been asking for pink slime and this had that and MORE. Though I hate slime, like most adults with a pulse, I asked the director where she got it. This thing would entertain Evie for at least 30 minutes, and I need all the time I can get.
In telling me where she purchased it, the director paused and said through her side-mouth (so Evie wouldn’t hear), “she can have it if ya want. Honestly, I was going to take it to Goodwill because we aren’t going to use it.”
Immediately I thought “yes! This gift will make Evie associate school with presents and awesomeness and fun!!!! Perfect!!!!!!!” Now looking back, I think I should have questioned this gift more. Why? Why wouldn’t they use it? Yes, slime sucks but there are worse things. Plus, aren’t schools always looking for free activities to do for the kids? Why would they willingly give up a bad-ass slime kit?!
I didn’t decline though. We left the preschool, slime kit in tow. Evie was pumped the entire car ride home. She couldn’t wait to pop open that box and get her slime on. Arriving back at the homestead, we settled down in the toy room and opened the gargantuan slime kit. First stop, pink slime!
Oh. My. God. This was the WORST slime to ever exist!! It was soupy, drippy, sticky, and now all over the place. Slime isn’t supposed to be this way. Store-bought slime is stretchy, moldable, and comes off your hands easily. If you avoid getting it in your hair or on your clothes, it’s not that bad. But this shit….this shit was like tar. It stuck to everything. Desperately trying to extricate my hands from the blob, I cleaned them off enough to run to the kitchen and grab our activator solution that we have premade and on hand. Because that’s the kind of house I live in. A house with slime activator ready in case you have an emergency such as this.
The activator, which is supposed to make slime less sticky and more manageable, did nothing. There was no hope….my hands, Evie’s hands and legs (because she listens for shit and didn’t follow my instructions to NOT TOUCH THIS DEVIL SLIME), and the toy room table were all covered in goo.
Eventually I was able to clean the mess up. It took patience, tears, 5 gallons of water and soap, and rags galore…but we eventually erased all physical traces of the slime. Emotional scars will take some time to heal.
The kit now rest in the garbage can where it should have gone in the first place.
Now I know why the director gave me the slime. No one would want that crap. Part of me wants to take this as a sign that Evie should say fuck it to that school. But she really needs to be around kids and it’s the most reasonably priced place I’ve found. I just hope she doesn’t now associate school with the horror that unfolded in the toy room that day or I’m in for a real treat come the fall.