Abby begged for Moon Sand. Brilliantly colored dirt, er, sand, that can be mushed, squished, and molded into tons of fun shapes, without drying out! It looked fun. It was cheap. Lovely, lovely stuff.
Unless, of course, you are the one in charge of cleaning up the moon sand. My little hand vac had to be emptied three times before all of the moon sand was removed from the table, rug under the table, floor under the rug that was under the table, window sill next to the table and shoes of the squisher who sat at the table molding the sand.
So what does my brilliant husband do? He buys more moon sand! I told him to return it unopened. He insisted that he had a plan. The moon sand was to be restricted to the playroom and the lipped train table, originally built for our Thomas gear. Problem solved.
Guess what stayed in the playroom on the train table for all of 5 minutes?
Guess who is in charge of cleaning up the moon sand now?
Guess who better not ever buy it again?