Ode to Cheryl

When I was 5 years old, my mom and I lived with my brother and his family on Cape Cod. My memories from that time are fuzzy, but there are some things I remember with perfect clarity. Sledding with my nieces, building a snowman, riding our bikes down the hill on the way to the lake, playing in the basement, watching The Cosby Show, Play-dough.

My brother's wife Cheryl used to make our play dough (and take us sledding, and play with us, and make us lunch, and settle our arguments, and and and....). For some reason I remember her making green play dough one time, and how it left a salty feel on our fingers. I could smell it too.

This memory had been stuffed down in the basement of my memories until today, when for the first time, I made play dough. I had been compiling a list of things to do with Noah, and one suggestion was to play with play dough, and suddenly my childhood memories came bobbing back up to the surface of my mind. I suddenly needed to show Noah the joys of homemade play dough. Green. For old times' sake.

He was not nearly as impressed as I was. After 3 minutes Noah exited the table, leaving me to mold my homemade play dough by myself. I had such fun handling that stuff, and reliving my memories in the process. I was delighted to find it as salty as ever, and as squishy as ever. So thank you, Cheryl, for taking the time to make us play dough and all the other things you did for us!

And if any of you need a dose of fun, go make some play dough! Make it green for me. :)

P.S. There are no pictures to post because Josh had the camera with him all day. :(

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