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My children have become obsessed with making slime and it’s gotten utterly out of hand. Is started, as it always does, with someone at school having some, so they had to have some too.
The problem was, this trendsetter had not bought slime, they’d made it. Obviously my kids wanted to make it too.

I don’t like things that make mess. I don’t like sticky, slimy things, but I think I probably did when I was a kid, so initially I indulged the ‘How to make slime’ videos on YouTube and I bought some cornflour in the weekly shopping.

That was my mistake, I’d given the kids a green light to make slime, and how they embraced it.

They’ve tried to make slime out of flour, fairy liquid, lip gloss and eggs. I go to make breakfast and there is nothing in the cupboards as it’s all been used to make slime. It’s on the chairs when I sit down, it’s on the floor, it’s in the shower, it’s on top of the loo, it’s clogged up the washing machine. It’s inside my slippers. It’s coming out the dogs, who eat the children’s failed experiments. It’s in the girl’s hair, under their pillows, being used as bookmarks and constantly on the table at dinner time.

I know you are thinking I need to toughen up and ban slime. Well, I ask you this; have you ever had to try and rehabilitate an addict? Unless you sit with them every second of the day, they will go off to get their fix.

Realising I needed to get a handle on the problem, I booked them into Artpod in Rottingdean for a ‘Slime making session’ in the half term. I thought they’d make slime there, and then I could put it on the bin while they are asleep. I thought the I had it all worked out.

I was, as I always am, wrong.

My middle daughter, Daisy, was so excited about the slime workshop, and so keen to learn all there is to know about slime, that she won the highly desired role of ‘Slime Ambassador’. (Yes, it’s thing).

She came home with a load of different slimes and a big smile on her face. The other two sulked and cried because that’s what siblings do. They always feel anything a sibling achieved was undeserved and unfair. NB: Mum, why did you invite John to go to Morocco with you but not me? It’s not fair and I’m much more fun.

Anyway, back to the slime story. My kids are awesome, but I don’t have any proof, so stupidly, I decided to brag about ‘my daughter being crowned slime ambassador, among the thousands of other hopefuls’

I even told the Headteacher, who announced the wonderful news in assembly. Of course, because this is my life, Daisy suddenly become too shy to make her slime ambassador speech, so I had to do it for her.

One of my many problems is the inability to know when to shut my mouth. A family friend, one of those ones you have to call auntie, even though she wasn’t an auntie, or any relative at all, once told me ‘Engage brain, then open mouth Ericka’.

Before I knew it, I was holding a Q&A session on the do’s and don’ts of slime making. I got really into it and began bragging about how easy it was, I think I even called it fun at one point.

I left school on a high and Daisy came home with a bulging bag. When I asked her what was in it, she said ‘All the stuff I’ve been given in exchange for making people slime. We need to make three glow-in the dark slimes, one colour changing one, one fish food one and a pink foaming one for school tomorrow.’

How do I get myself in these situations? I’ve gone from hating slime, to peddling it. I gave my talk, so children could make slime themselves, not so they could place orders for bespoke versions of the stuff.

But now Daisy is really popular and people high-five her in the corridors. They call her ‘Slime queen’, how can I take that away from her?

So our dining table looks like a scene from Breaking Bad and all we do is try and make slime. Each day people place more orders and each night I sit up late, stirring pots of crap to make crap. I suppose I deserve it.

I want to find the person who first invented slime and sue him for damages. I’m assuming it’s a man because no woman would do this to another woman. I wouldn’t wish slime on my worst enemy. Actually, Hang on, yes I would, and that ‘Auntie’ who told me to engage my brain.