I used to believe that Playdoh got old. You know - once all the colors mixed together it was time to open a new can of it. But apparently I was wrong. In the midst of a sea of unopened colorful canes of Playdoh: 
the boys chose to continue using the nasty old stuff. They squished, rolled, cut, molded, and even stamped the old brown/black/green/nasty colored stuff into all kinds of shapes. 
I offered several time to open new jars, and they finally let me open one small (tiny tiny small) pink jar. Sam made hair from it, but for the most part they used the gross stuff. I explained that they could open as many jars as they want, and that when it gets old it makes it really really hard to make turtles, give the chicken hair, and even cut, but they insisted on using the old stuff. Oh well, I guess as we get older we lose our appreciation for that well mixed pile of Playdoh.
I offered several time to open new jars, and they finally let me open one small (tiny tiny small) pink jar. Sam made hair from it, but for the most part they used the gross stuff. I explained that they could open as many jars as they want, and that when it gets old it makes it really really hard to make turtles, give the chicken hair, and even cut, but they insisted on using the old stuff. Oh well, I guess as we get older we lose our appreciation for that well mixed pile of Playdoh.
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