Browsing on Pinterest for ideas for my preschoolers garnered more ideas than I could implement in a year of Fridays. We only meet twice a week so pumpkin and apple projects go fast, as will Thanksgiving. There was a play dough recipe that used spices for coloring. What a nice combo of sensory pleasures, smell and touch. Rather than hike to the store for one ingredient, cream of tarter, I asked on social media and within minutes a friend offered some. We even got a quick visit when I went to pick it up. 

Mixing it on the stove went well, but then came the part about color. 

Let me give a little background here. For our wedding clothes, John and I decided to dye the fabric with natural ingredients. Make that onion skins. So sometime in the spring of 1980 I dunked four yards of cotton in a bath of boiling peels. It came out more pale than I wanted but it still resembled yellow. That cloth became John's pants and my bodice. I know, I know. It seemed important at the time. 

So here I was thirty six years later pouring paprika into a ball of dough hoping for orange, and cinnamon in a smaller lump for the stems. Meh. 

On the top shelf of my pantry was the high end food dye that I bought when I used to go overboard on children's birthday cakes. That was an era of dalmatian and Ninja turtle shaped desserts, which the twins missed completely. I wondered about the expiration of such baking supplies, and poured in extra. That was my mistake. When I started kneading it into the dough my hands became as fluorescent as the vests people wear trying to not get killed while jogging at night. But the play dough was definitely orange.

When the kids arrived at preschool I sat invitingly at the table with my scented and noticeably bright dough. 

"We can make pumpkins!" I suggested as if it was the most novel idea on the planet. Being two they were impervious to social norms around October and proceeded to make snakes. All told the project lasted about four minutes, which is roughly one tenth of the time I spent preparing for it. 

"You should wash your hands, Mrs. Lori," a little girl suggested as she ran off to explore the wooden food. 

Thanks for the idea.

Sometimes the efforts I make to brighten up my children's lives, or my marriage seem absolutely brilliant in theory. But then when it actually shows up in real time, it has lost something. Like the dinner I just served. The broccoli was limp and the potatoes were mushy. I guess I will try again tomorrow.