Small Sprogs' friend.

"Mum, mum, can we have a plastic cup?"
This was Small Sprog in excitable mood and on a mission.
"Do you want a drink?"
"No"
"What do you want the cup for then?" I asked suspiciously.
"We're going to make slime!"
Small Sprog has a friend home for tea. A girl, but he takes pains to say not a "girlfriend"! She is incredibly rascally!! In fact he has 3 friends that are girls who are all rascals. He sure can pick them. A few minutes before they had been laughing and shrieking upstairs like loons!
"Where are you going to make slime?" I say, trying to keep a reasonable tone.
"In the bathroom" The rascally one pipes up. She has beautiful long blond hair and twinkling blue eyes, with that sort of "butter wouldn't melt" look about her.
"How about making it outside?" I suggest in my best "singsong" voice, with a smile as encouragement.
"We'll be fine in the bathroom" She replies.
"Hmmm," I think "I know you will but will I?"
"What are you going to make the slime with?" I can't remember him having a chemistry set stashed away in his bedroom!
"Stuff"
"What sort of stuff? You can't have any of my new shampoo, it cost a fortune." The hairdresser had talked me into buying it and I was well and truly stitched up.
"Tall girls deodorant" He snigger's
"No!" I shout, laughing now too at their naughtiness. "You can't use your sisters stuff either. Why don't you both go and give these to the rabbits?"
That stopped them in their tracks. Green beans for the rabbits and they were off down the back step like a shot. I breathed a sigh of relief. When they came back they'd have forgotten all about making slime.

Wrong. They were back in a trice.
"Can I have that plastic cup now,?" Says Small Sprog.
"I know, why don't you have a jug and some soap outside? You can have some bicarb and some food die too if you like" I was getting desperate. Mum is coming this weekend and I have given the bathroom a "once over" already because I'll be at work for the rest of the week. Who knows what it will look like if they succeed in their mission, let alone what I might loose in the process!
For a moment the Rascal isn't convinced but Small Sprog has had dealings with me before (!) and knows that he might not win this one, so he agrees.

Off they go down the garden (Husbands domain, so no worries about mess on my part!) with their jug, washing up liquid and bicarb. They choose pink food colouring and use the outside tap for water. Sorted. But no! Five minutes later Small Sprog comes in with Rascal in tow, brandishing the jug. There is a goo in the bottom of it which is fizzing and looks extraordinarily like strawberry jam.
"Take it out!" I shout, momentarily loosing my cool.
"It's lovely, look!" They giggle, stirring it with the wooden spoon I'd given them.
"Yes, it's remarkably lovely." I reply "But it might be better if you keep it outside."
They wander out looking a little deflated. A short while later Small Sprog comes back in with a less that trustworthy look on his face.
"Are you OK?" I ask
"Fine" He runs through the kitchen into the downstairs toilet, but he's not in there long enough to "do" anything!
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing."
"What have you got there?" I make a grab as he runs past but he's off, running at speed, carrying the lovely new soap that I'd just bought for the downstairs loo. I was loosing the will to live now! At least the food was nearly ready, that would give them something else to do.

However I was just about to "dish up" when Rascal shouted from the back garden "Oh no! Look!" I run out into the garden expecting the worst. And what sight! They had had an "accident" with the food colouring (which said pink on the bottle, but looked blood red). Rascal had dropped the small bottle on her foot and now looked like a victim from the trenches! Bright red "blood" was spread over her toes and most of the top of her foot. She looked as though she'd just had all her toes amputated! I suspected that Small Sprog had seen the effect and "accidentally" done the same with his foot!
"Quick" I panicked "Wash your feet in this bucket" I'm not sure how indelible food die is (I know now, VERY!). What will her mum say? They head for the back door.
"No, do it out here!" I screech, visualising husband returning home from work any minute to a kitchen of "bleeding" children. I don't think his stomach could take it. The whole episode could have dire consequences, cold sweat, fainting, heart attack even. (God forbid he take to his bed again!!!).

And that was my evening really! I'm not sure my nerves can take much more of Small Sprogs antics and it might be a while before Rascal comes to tea again!