It’s all the rage this summer. Slime. “Everybody’s doing it.” Are you?
We took a sip of the kool-aid and plunged in head first — literally.
It wasn’t pretty.
More on that in a bit.
It started when my husband went shopping for ingredients this summer and another dad on a similar mission met him in every aisle. Baking Soda. Glue. “Dude, you should get the big gallon jug. That’s the one my daughter asks for.” Done. Contact Solution. They bonded. Over slime errands.
The kids were psyched when we mixed it all up and watched it morph before our very eyes into this glamorous, gooey, glumpy gunk that could spread, stick, slide, and stretch across the kitchen. And they stretched it across the kitchen. And the dining room. And their car seats.
Who knew this sacrificial shirt was only foreshadowing what was about to go down only days later?
The Gift of Slime
The kids heard about their second cousin selling slime to her friends for a little petty cash. She has quite the entrepreneurial spirit. Also apparently she makes pretty good slime. We were heading out on a big road trip, and what would the kids bring for their pals of similar ages in Albuquerque?
Not just any slime, a RAINBOW assortment of SLIME! We made batch after batch and used drops and drops of food coloring to tint each slime ball into a different spectrum.
Then it happened. The slime was gifted. The kids played. All was well until my youngest, who had been dressed in a tiara by his sweet new bff, took the entire plastic tub of yellow slime and turned it over onto his gorgeous little head full of curly locks.
Life in Slow Motion
The next part happened so quickly. Yet it dragged on for what felt like an eternity.
Remembering the dry wick shirt, I slid across the room to my child. Pulling up on this little cylindrical crown of slime that was starting to creep down his head proved ineffective. It was stuck, y’all. It was totally stuck to his hair. Big time. Stuck. Not-coming-off stuck.
So the adults in the room, realizing the dilemma, all sprung into action. We pulled chunks off, trying to spare the hair. I cupped my hands around the slime to keep it off of the rest of the hair. In my mind I was already having visions of us all busting out the scissors and my son dealing with male-patterned-baldness at age 2.9.
Bath tub? Warm water? Shampoo? What does Google say?
By the way, my toddler was YELLING HIS HEAD OFF. Poor child. We didn’t know what to do.
Until we did. Thankfully, my dear friend kept cool and calm through it all and found the golden egg that would break down slime on a molecular level.
Write this down: vinegar.
I wrote this story specifically to spread the word. Apple cider vinegar. White wine vinegar. Old been-in-the-back-of-your-pantry-for-years vinegar. Vinegar. Keep it handy and remember its name.
It saved my son’s hair and broke down the slime so that we could pull out hairless clumps of goo, one by one, as he sat in the bath tub crying until it was all over.
We survived, and he survived. And slime was harmed in the making of this adventure.
Be sure and check out our favorite recipes for making slime. If you haven’t tried it yet, go get some glue (and maybe some vinegar…) and play!