Oh. My. Goodness.
Apparently, I’ve lost my mind. Who knew that a two year, a giant bowl of paper mache and the great outdoors could result in a paste explosion that mimics nuclear fallout patterns? There is paste everywhere. On the furniture, on the deck, on the plants, the dog, the yard, the trees and quite possibly the neighbors across the pond. I have paper mache on parts of my body that were never meant to be rolled in flour and left to harden.
On the upside, the rainstick that we’re working on is going to be very, very cool when finished. (I think.) The next step, once the paper mache dries is paint. So, ya know, that’ll be clean.
Then, glue. Cause, what could go wrong with glue, sheets of felt, googly eyes, and a two year old?
I’d like to mention here that it is quite possible that I’m insane. But my son, should he ever desire to move to New Orleans, join a Krew and make Mardi Gras floats, has a giant head start. So, there’s that. Heh.