Die, Slime, Die (This and Other Kid-Items Which Ought Die a Terrible Death)

I know. I know.
I am terrible.
Simply horrible.
You must be clucking at me, rolling your eyes and side-whispering about what a rotten, unfair, boring mother I must be. How my children will grow to rebel because I find ZERO pleasure in their playing with Slime.
And making it? From scratch? 
Oh! Heck! NO!

There are mothers who do this.
Their children have multiple empty Cool -Whip containers filled with Glitter Slime, Strawberry Scented Slime, even Glow-in-the-Dark Unicorn Slime.
My children have none of the above.

Two years ago, they were given a gift of Play Foam from a well-meaning gift-giver at Christmas time. The package arrived and I opened it before they returned home from school- eagle-eyed as I was to spot and cleverly side-swipe away the forboden so my angels were none-the-wiser. I instantly dismissed it as, "Nope, not in my house", until my hubby received a phone call later that day from his momma (my mother-in-love), who asked if her gift had arrived just yet.
"Take it back from the re-gift pile, Shannon," Big Strong Man consoled me, "This is a gift-for-keeps."

A few notes here:
Yes, 100% I re-gift. If you have given any of my children Slime, Play Foam, Play-Doh, or anything of the likes, there is a 99.9% chance I re-wrapped that gift and it was handed over at the next, unsuspecting birthday party we were invited to.
To my surprise, (because I could otherwise feel deeply remorseful and straight nasty doing this), some parents actually don't mind their children playing with these devilish items. 
Observe paragraph number two where the child has his/her own collection of Slime for every color!

credit: PricesPlus

Second thing to note, I sincerely love my mother-in-love. She is just charming. She writes poetry about gardens and Jesus, she enjoys decorating her front patio with lawn ornaments and flowers which remind her of people she loves and beautiful things, and she will share her hidden candies with you if you join her for a television marathon of Downton Abbey. -Easy-Peesy!
That written, (brace yourself Terry-Lynn!) she can be feisty!
When she found out I had become a vegetarian, she was perfectly fine with me being weird me being me, so long as I was feeding the boys their meat. "Boys need their meat! You must feed them meat! And your husband -my son- he needs his meat, too! Tell me that they are all still getting meat!"
Yes ma'am, I hear you. Loud and clear.
Keep the Play Foam, serve the boys their meat.

To this day, 85% of the Play Foam sits in its original box in our basement, on the high-up shelf so the boys cannot reach it. They see it periodically, ask for it forlorningly, and sigh a little sigh every time I say, "maybe later", knowing full-well that I need to just throw it away already and let that dream of theirs die.

But why? Why on earth am I so obsessive and negative about a children's play-thing? 

What is my problem? 

Glad you asked.
Two weekends ago Papy and Nanny came for a weekend visit. We had a fantastic time! A it-is-so-hard-to-say-good-bye, kind of time.
At their arrival, they produced three baskets, left over from the Easter Bunny's trip to their house, a visit which we had planned to make but which was denied on account of Corona.
Along with the heaps of candy (don't get me started!), were Ocean Slime and Farting Slime- and my heart skipped a beat at the sight of it all. (To be fair, the hearts of my three sons beat faster with excitement, so I suppose it all evens out somehow.)
"Um..." I began, not wanting to offend the gift givers nor the Easter Bunny, who was sure to hear from me, "I...um...it's just that...well...slime...uh!"

My concerns were dismissed, laughed at, even. "Now we know what to get the kids for their birthdays!" Exclaimed one grandparent, "And for Christmas, too!" added the other.

Funny. I thought. You are just so very funny.
Within 48 hours, the Slime found it's way to Thatcher's pants and underoos, unable to come off, but designated for play so, no one really cared.
It also found it's was to the back of Big Strong Man's really nice IZOD shorts- They had to be thrown in the trash.
It found it's way onto my tablecloth! (For Pete's sake- NO!!!)
And on to the centerpiece we were gifted, the unfinished, natural wood slice from a tree which we use as a really attractive decoration. And, listen up, I really -really- like it. *So boo*

So you can imagine that the snarky faced, heavy-breathed, pursed lips countenance I held for the previous 48 hours had hit it's end:
IT IS FINISHED!!! I declared, gathering it all in my hands and walking to the garbage.
NO MORE SLIME!! 
My sons watched in horror as I opened the garbage and tossed it all in. I was maniacal, both deliriously happy to get rid of it, and frustrated that my centerpiece, and BSM's shorts were ruined- Why not the dingy ones? The ones which no longer fit? Why the blessed IZOD shorts? The really nice, well-fitting shorts? Why??? 

Chris Pratt gets slimed at the Nickelodeon Kid's Choice Awards

Later that night, with the Slime gone and the boys actively recovering (they were over it in no time flat), Big Strong Man turned to me and stated with precision like no other, "Darn it! We should have put it all in a box and re-gifted it right back to Papy and Nanny for Christmas."
Darn it indeed. 
---

What kid items get you more frustrated than sand in your crack? 

Also, do you re-gift? 

I know some people think this is just terrible. My confession right here will come off as both unbelievable and scarily liberating.
It is A-OK to re-gift. 
As I mentioned above, I don't share my junk with others who don't want junk, but if others do want junk, (or I don't yet know that they don't), than I am happy to share.
It's who I am.

In addition to the above mentioned,
Water Beads are high on my list (wink*wink* Deanna- I know your heart is good), as are Kinder Eggs ($3 for a chocolate with a toy inside), Surprise Eggs/Bags/Poop- what the -literal- crap?? (What crap toy will I get from a crap collection I care nothing about? The $4 bag of surprise junk is too much to bear. And, true story, once my 9-year-old was SO EXCITED to get his surprise toy, until he paid for it with his own money, opened it up excitedly, and then left the toy for dead, sitting on the panel at the store. It was such junk even his kid-brain understood he was duped.) and, let's face this truth head on: Anything "Ryan's Toys Review".
Cute kid, expensive junk.

Please share your horror items below- it is such fun!
Let's laugh together at all the money we waste on stuff our kids don't need and which we clean up off the floor with tears in our eyes. Or, just laugh at me, that works too!