“I HAVE AN IDEA!” my son, Leo, said to me about two years ago, with a wild look in his eyes. “Let’s make rainbow slime!” It was not yet 8am, and I was hard-pressed to think of anything I wanted to do less.
“Maybe later,” I offered my thenfour year old, avoiding the more f lammable answer that sprang to mind (ie, “No”).
“But I neeeeeed to make something!” he begged, as if he were Monet, had just beheld a water lily for the first time, and here I was denying him oils and a canvas.
At the time, Leo was six months into his obsession with slime: we’d made fluffy slime, galaxy slime, clear-glue slime and retro Ghostbusters slime-kit slime. For the (blissfully) uninitiated, slime is a squishy, goo-like…