Puff Daddy

No, it's not yet time for Kaney's "Green Party," which I have been promised for my birthday this year (unfortunately, no promises to host it in the Hamptons were made).  It was time for a little homemade puffy paint today.  Mom had high hopes, which she probably should have realized doomed this little art project from the start.  To begin with, I just wasn't in the mood.  I really didn't feel like napping today -- the first time mom came into my room I was having a Mardi Gras party.  For reals.  Mom found me jumping up and down on the bed, half-dressed (or, as I told her "I just want bare bottom"), Mardi Gras beads around my neck, playing a flute.  The second time, mom came in to address the vagabond's pack I was assembling outside of my door -- every single stuffed animal, musical instrument, and puzzle I had was balanced precariously on a small toy bin (I stabilized the stack using an upside-down stick horse).  Now, it was clear that she was trying really hard to stifle her laugh, but she still made it clear that if she had to come in a third time, it was not going to be pretty.  Eventually I fell asleep, but when she woke me up at 5:15, I was not in a good mood.  But mom insisted we were going to have a good time doing some "puffy paint art project."

She had already mixed up the paint, but let me pick the colors.  No big surprises there -- I picked green and yellow/green.  Duh.  Mom had bought a few squeeze bottles to use (although we really needed to double  the recipe to get enough) and we filled them with the paint mixture and shook in the colors -- Cam and I both liked that part at least.  We sat down at our pre-taped art board, squeezed a little out, put our fingers in and both started crying.  I started crying because I seemed to have developed some extremely sensitive sensory issue and COULD NOT STAND the feeling of the salty paint on my hands.  And even though mom wisely told me to simply stop finger painting, I did no such thing.  Cami did what she always does and ate it.  And it was SALTY.  So that didn't go over well.  When mom gave her just some plain paint with which to fingerpaint, she ate that too.  And that didn't go over well either.  So, mom sat there and painted by herself.  And while it's no Starry Night, she did do it with two screaming toddlers making all sorts of ridiculous end-of-the-day requests, pulling on her leg, and biting each other.  Mom painted hers and then "marbled" it using the tip of one of the squeezies.  They are still drying, but I think they're going to come out all sparkly (if mom's ever dries).  Mom said we could try this one again when we're a little bit older or not so cranky (she'll be waiting a long time on the latter).

(Pardon the quality of the pics.  Mom left the camera charger in South Carolina (along with one gold flip-flop, several hundred dollars of flowers, and MY green beach shovel) and tried to bring an old digital camera back to life, but was stuck with her iPhone for most of these).