the play-doh kid

We have a rule in parking lots. The Kidling must have physical contact with The Parent with whom she is walking. Typically, that means holding hands with The Mama or The Dada. When, for example, my hands are full, it occasionally means holding on to The Mama’s coat or purse.

Well, Alice was trying to push the limits the other day. I reminded her that she must stay with me in the parking lot. Alice replied:

“Yeah, because I could get smashed down. And then people would pick me up. Like Play-Doh.”

And that, dear one, is exactly why you must stay close. I don’t want a Play-Doh kid.

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About The Mamahttp://kidlingville.comProfessional talker, editor, emailer, problem solver, adjunct lecturer, blogger, and mother to the brilliantly absurd Kidling.

17 thoughts on “the play-doh kid

    • Yes! I barely resisted the urge to say, “Actually Alice, it is far bloodier and messier than that.” I do, however, tell her quite candidly when something extraordinarily dangerous might, in fact, kill her. No mincing words when your kid is as brave as mine can be at times.

    • Ha! Clearly she has not! But now the visual image of her looking at it and making her absurd, inquisitive sound (imagine Scooby Doo saying, “huh?”) has me giggling. Thanks, CCL!

    • Ha! Love this! Though she would likely take issue with my artistic skills. The Kidling has told me my artwork does not look like the creatures they are intended to be.

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