Daddy hates your Playdoh. He hates how it feels. He hates how it breaks up in to so many tiny pieces that you can never pick all of it up. He hates how you don’t seem to care if you pick all of it up. He hates how it gets ground in to the carpets. He hates how it gets stuck in the bottoms of your shoes. He hates it.
I dislike your Playdoh. I dislike how it goes bad within an hour. I dislike how you don’t get this concept that the Playdoh will go bad within an hour. I dislike how I have it under my nails for a day after cleaning it up. I dislike how it collects all the crumbs and dust in it’s vicinity and becomes oddly and grossly textured. I dislike crawling around on the floor picking dried bits of Playdoh out of the carpet so Daddy won’t have a heart attack. I dislike how Buddy likes to take all the tiny bits Kitten has cut up and throw them in the air with glee.
I’m sure there is some value to Playdoh. I’m sure it is excellent for your creativity and fine motor skills. But right now and until you learn to play nice with the Playdoh – Bite me, Playdoh. Bite me.