Tweet Oh I was so excited about making such festive, creative, and heartfelt gifts for my parents, Mommy-in-Law, my Grandma, and one precious one for us. Alas, it twas not to be.
The epic saga started with incredibly hard play dough. I softened the recipe with some water but it was still not very mailable. Hubs and I worked together to press Little Bits giant feet into the dough. It was not what I had envisioned. Visions of prancing baby feet had danced through my head. The reality was a kicking and fussing eleven month old who now had greasy feet.
The task was done. Late of course. Why on Earth would I have done this on any other day than Christmas Eve. Oh pish posh I thought. It will dry by morning. Whenever I left my play dough out it instantaneously turned to solid state within two hours.
We got up on the magical morning. Little Bits very first Christmas. I checked the ornaments and to my dismay they were no where near dry. Gasp! I left them on the dining room table to dry in hopes that by the end of the day I would be able to safely send them to their new homes.
My parents live next door so we made the long trip over the hill to celebrate with the fam. Hubs came back home to put Little Bit down for an afternoon nap. He called me shortly thereafter. The conversation went something like this... "Um, Amy?" I say "yes?" He responds, "The dogs ate your handprint ornaments." Me, silence with a strain of nasty words running through my head. Hubs, "Amy?" Me, "I have to go." Grumpiness ensues.
So my perfect, thoughtful gifts were consumed by my four legged family members. Grump, grump, grump. They were lovely. Before they were mauled that is. Sigh...
Merry Christmas to all and to all a full mutt.