IF MY house burnt down today, all you would find in the rubble would be slews of slime.
Thick, oozing sludge in every colour of the rainbow.
My girls are obsessed with the stuff.
After weeks of endless begging, I succumbed to the girls’ pleas to make slime and I am paying the price.
Every plastic container I own has been used to store this disgusting gunk — that is the stuff that hasn’t already found its way into every crevice of my house.
You see, the girls tried several recipes before finding one that actually worked and doesn’t stick to everything it touches.
It only took about 10 tries.
And after perfecting the formula, they needed to make eight batches of it — in every colour.
And I’m finding it everywhere.
As well as discovering globs stuck to the walls and doors, the goo has made its way onto the floor (thanks to Ayla’s attempts to get a laugh by pretending it’s a pile of snot coming out during a sneeze).
Ayla also thought it would be funny to leave some slime on the toilet seat for Maya to sit on. That didn’t go down too well, considering little miss is terrified of a daddy long legs.
Ayla is the queen of pranks. I have no idea where she gets that from.
Drop Dead Fred has a lot to answer for!
And if she isn’t using slime to prank her sister or me, it’s something else.
The other morning, I went to wake up Maya and she had a moustache and bushy eyebrows drawn on her face.
With texta. The poor girl’s face was red raw by the time I finished scrubbing it off.
Ayla got a stern talking to (without the mention of me doing the exact same thing to my best friend at drama camp when I was 14).
So just a warning to parents whose kids are pleading with them to make their own slime.
‘‘It’ll be fun,’’ they’ll say.
Oh yes, it will be. For them.