An Ode to Floam, Whatever it's Made of

Fun as Christmas is, it does involve, for us, a ten-hour car trip (twice), a week-long stay in a relative's house (on an air mattress), lots of unfamiliar food (i.e. sugar), and constant exposure to people we don't often see (grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins). The four-year-old is just this year old enough to thrive on this (except for the car ride), but the two-year-old has spent an unsurprisingly large amount of time coping by crashing out at unusual times...
...and in unusual circumstances:
I'm finally learning a couple of parenting tactics, however, and so as you might have noticed in my last post, every single present in the girls' stockings was something To Do. I can make my babies quilts and clothes and lovies any day, but what they need when they're away from home in a house with no kid infrastructure of its own and no same-age kiddos around is wholesome, creative, engaging activities.

Hence the Floam. I don't know what this stuff is made of, and my sense is that it's likely an ecological nightmare, but wow, it's fun. It's made of these little pellet things held together by something sticky but that doesn't make your hands sticky, and you can squish it and pull it and tear it-- --and mold it and squeeze it--

--and when you're done with the highly cathartic sensory experience, you can make a snowman----or a heart for your suspicious-looking lover:

And perhaps because our generous loved ones also gifted my babies with lots of colored pencils and stickers and books and puzzles and musical instruments, and the coveted BALANCE BIKES, or perhaps because the babies are older now and a little more sure of themselves in an unfamiliar surrounding, but there has been a *little* less fussing and fighting and TV-watching and candy-eating this holiday, and a LOT more happy coloring and listening to books and working puzzles and playing games with Grandma Beck.

If this keeps up, I might someday renege on my vow never again to step on a plane with them.