A failure of imagination

I recently made Henry a big batch of homemade orange colored playdough. We made up a game where we roll it out and then drive his tiny construction vehicles through it. They get stuck in it, we dig it up with the backhoe and load it into the dump truck. Great, messy (but supervised) fun.

Anyway, he wanted to play with it again tonight. I slyly told him to ask Adam to play with him in his room so I could catch a little break. I tried to explain the rules to Adam and he confidently told me he could make up his own game. After only 10 minutes, he was in the kitchen cooking dinner. Henry then followed him out with a small pail filled with tiny pretend oranges. He was dumping them into the back of his wagon and pulling them around the apartment.

I incredulously asked Adam if he was serious in his intent to let Henry wander the apartment (unsupervised) with little balls of playdough. He pooh-poohed me and I just told him that I would not be responsible for the outcome.

Apparently he failed to imagine the mess that Henry was capable of creating. He was later removing it from our bedroom, Henry's toy kitchen, the wagon, a gift bag, the piece that was ground into Henry's bedroom carpet, Molly's bouncy seat...who knows where we will find it tomorrow.

Men!