I was pretty surprised that I didn't witness any kids licking their dough. I mean, HEY, MY KIDS ARE OBSESSED WITH LICKING. Aren't everyone else's, too? I thought about the slimy film on my hands and my mind started spiraling down, down, down into the depths of bacteria-ridden play-dough hell and I had to stop myself from thinking about it any more, lest I went fucking crazy and threw all the shit in the trash can, then lit it on fire and got arrested. Instead, I got up and washed my hands for several minutes.
I considered pointing out how disgusting the stuff was to the staff, along with asking them if they have thought about how gross it is that they've asked us to bring in empty toilet paper rolls (think about what people are doing when touching those things), and decided that I probably shouldn't let my freak flag fly at full mast and you know, for my son's sake, just let it go.
No big deal, until I realized that the shirt was under her dress.
I was feeling a little panicky and told her not to do anything, hold on! as I walked to the hallway and looked for another adult to at least be a witness, and again was reminded of how much I hate being put in the position of having to deal with other kids.
I really just couldn't wait for the day to be done.
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