When my son first suggested making slime, I thought it was a fantastic idea. It was hands-on, scientific, and made use of simple ingredients—just the perfect antidote to the ongoing battle against screen time. Little did I know that I was inviting chaos into my home.
Seriously, who thought it was a brilliant idea to revive slime? It seems like every generation believes they invented it. I remember playing with slime when I was a kid, and here I am at 42, witnessing yet another cycle of gooey fun. I’m looking at you, social media influencers. My kid saw you, Tyler Green, experiment with countless types of slime and thought it looked like amazing fun. So, as the responsible, education-focused parent, I gathered up the liquid glue, borax, and food coloring and watched my child revel in the wonders of chemistry.
Maybe those climate change skeptics are onto something; perhaps science is the devil in disguise. Just kidding—I adore science, but slime? Not so much.
The challenge is that when you have a curious child, experiments never truly conclude. There’s always another “What if?” question waiting to be asked. What if we combine all these colors? What if I add glitter glue? What if I let it drop from way up high? What if I throw a huge blob and aim for the ceiling? What if I put it on my head? What if I put it on the cat?
My house was literally drenched in slime, from ceiling to floor. I found little brown slime blobs—yes, that’s the color when you mix every hue—scattered throughout my home. They appeared on the couch, coffee table, under the dining table, and even on the bookshelves. I can already picture a guest lifting one of our throw pillows and discovering a brown slime wad that resembles a real booger. How charming.
I’ve had to scrub slime mixed with glitter off the piano, TV stand, windows, and even my phone. I’ve discovered it smeared across the bathtub, countertop, sink, hand towel, and bathroom doorknob (seriously, when do kids learn to wash their hands properly?). I found it in my son’s hair and, to my horror, mine too.
And it doesn’t stop at slime. Oh no! We embarked on a “putty” adventure simultaneously. Though putty is thicker and seems easier to manage, it’s just as troublesome. One day, my son misplaced his putty—not the container, which rested empty on the dining table, but the actual lump of putty. It was unsettling to think there was a glob of thick, sticky goo lurking somewhere in my house. I was convinced it would turn up in his bed, but no luck.
After two days of searching, my oldest daughter pointed at something in the dining room and asked what was going on. It turned out my inquisitive son had wrapped the putty around the dining chair knob to see what would happen—and then completely forgot about it.
The worst part? Our family of five had silver putty oozing down one of our dining chair legs—something we all passed multiple times a day without noticing. I guess we were too busy dodging brown slime blobs. It was chaos in our home, and we had no idea.
After cutting the putty out of my son’s hair (yes, he had it in his bed at some point), I made the decision to rid our home of all things slimy and squishy. No more “science experiments” until every last bit of slime is found and that brown stain is cleaned off the ceiling.
I cast you out, evil putty! We reject you, wicked slime! Be gone, spawn of chaos! Return to the depths of domestic turmoil from which you came! Amen and hallelujah.
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In summary, after experiencing the overwhelming mess that slime and putty can create, I’ve decided to banish both from our home for good.
Keyphrase: banishing slime and putty
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