Red Ted Art or the Imagination Tree. Only they're not really a guilty pleasure, they're more of a pleasurable guilt. Or just a guilt, in fact.
Because I'm rubbish at all that stuff. I'm rubbish at the ideas, and, more importantly, I'm rubbish at the execution.
Because is it just me or does it always take significantly longer to get the stuff out and put it away than the time they're actually entertained doing it? And does it not always end up with you turning your back to help one with a particularly intricate bit of gluing, and turn back to find the other two fighting over the scissors, or the blue paint or the sequins, or putting hand prints on the newly-painted walls.
I could claim it's more difficult because I'm trying to entertain three. Or that they're still very little. Or that they've got different abilities. Or that I don't have the right tissue paper, or glitter, or glue.
Because I try. I really do. We made these hats (now gathering dust on the table) on Monday. But it's never quite what I want it to be. I have visions of happy hours spent, chatting merrily, little heads bent in concentration over some masterpiece, while the clock ticks on unnoticed and we look up astonished that an entire afternoon has passed.
And somehow, it never quite works out like that. Maybe it's me.
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