The Saga of the Hand Imprint

Dearest Sammie,

Epic Fail.

On this, my second to last day of summer, I got the *brilliant* idea to try to do the plaster mold of your hand.



I had received the plaster molding kit for one of your showers, and was so excited to capture this part of your babyhood. My parents had done the imprint of my hand when I was a baby, and I wanted to do the same for you. The box said infant to 12 years, but I was smart enough to wait until you were older.



Fourteen months seemed about right.

I dressed you up to match the colors that I planned to paint the mold, and made sure that my hair and face were somewhat presentable. I even turned my Pampered Chef apron inside out so you couldn't see the logo (not that I'm embarrassed of it, quite the contrary, I just wanted a classic picture of us placing your hand in the plaster to post next to your hand imprint so we could capture the moment).

Yeah, I know. Your mama's a bit crazy about these things.

We got off on the wrong foot right away--I misread the directions and tried to mix the stuff right in the flimsy heart shaped mold instead of in the bowl. I quickly transferred the goo to a bowl while your father tried to salvage the plastic tray by cleaning it. It was then that it dawned on me that it probably wasn't a good idea to put you so close to the green goop without putting some sort of cover up on you.

By this point, though, we were racing against the clock. According to the directions, I had exactly 90 seconds to mix the stuff into a "pancake like consistency" and another 60 seconds to place your hand in the gel mixture.

Yeah, you read that right. I was supposed to hold your hand in place in this pancake-like green goop for 60 seconds.

Let me remind you that on the box it says "for infants to 12 years."



We plopped you on the counter while your daddy tried to snap pictures of the momentous occasion.



It, um, didn't exactly work out as I had planned.

It 2.2 seconds flat, you were covered in green goop and not a happy camper.



So much for keeping your hand perfectly centered in the tray for a full minute.

So much for keeping you perfectly clean in your perfectly coordinating red watermelon outfit (with perfectly matching bow to boot).

So much for having the perfectly captured imprint of your hand, painted in red and white polka dots, with the perfectly posed picture framed nearby.

I spent the remainder of the time frantically scrubbing what was left of your clothes with a brush in your bathroom. As I type this, your clothes are soaking in the bathroom sink while I hope and pray they're not ruined for all of eternity.

So...like I said, epic fail in the arts and crafts department for 14 month olds.



The End

Loving you,
your mama