Heidi Crane

The raw egg story reminds me of my two littler kids. They were about 8 and
6, I guess, and just loved to put their hands in my big bin of white flour
that I keep in the basement. It used to bug the crud out of me, and I tried
many things, including not only the standard shouting, but also politely
asking, and explaining "why" I didn't want them sticking their hands in the
flour bin.

Then one day, I set them down on the floor, opened up the bin, and said
"Play" Which they did. Hands, arms, legs, faces. Hair. All white with flour.
They played until they were done, when we dusted them off, stuck them in a
shower, and I swept up the floor. That cool, soft feeling on their hands
must have been so nice. I figure, it couldn't have cost me more than five
bucks to replace that flour, and they had a terrific time.

Since then, they haven't stuck their hands in the flour. If they wanted to,
we'd do it again. amazing, what saying "yes" will do.

blessings, Heidic



>
>For instance, today he really wanted to play with the raw eggs --
>he didn't understand the difference between the hardboiled ones I
>usually give him and the raw ones in the fridge -- so I brought one
>raw egg up to the bathtub, stripped him to his diaper, and let him
>play with it there. Boy, was he surprised when it broke! It was fun
>to watch.