A date with Sarah-Kate;

Kate’s daughter has some explaining to do

My daughter’s recent obsession with slime seems to have got us into a sticky situation. I actually banned slime, but in a calculated attempt to prove banning stuff doesn’t work, my daughter and her friend emerged from a sleepover one weekend with armfuls of the goo in small pots.

“What have we here?” I asked like Inspector Clouseau. “I thought I banned slime.”

“Well yes, technically you did, but this was just a oneoff because we had all the ingredients and we made it outside – well, we did some in the bathroom, but mainly outside,” my daughter began.

“Wait, what?” I interrupted. “The bathroom?”

“Oh, yes, but it’s no big deal. We cleaned it up,” she replied triumphant. “How did you clean it up?” “Well, you know, wiped down the benches and rinsed stuff down the sink,” she said.

“Rinsed what exactly down the sink?” I continued.

“Just the leftover bits of glitter and stuff,” she reasoned.

“Yes, but slime is made with glue. Did any glue or actual slime go down the sink at all?”

“Ummm.” My daughter scratched her head. “Not really. Well, I don’t think so.”

The next day, as my daughter slapped and sloshed the banned slime around her desk, I heard a disconcerting gurgling noise coming from her bathroom. It sounded like water trying to escape, then slurping back – the sound of a blocked sink.

Investigations confirmed my worst fears. There in the bathroom, swirling around in murky brown water with a touch of glitter, was a blocked sink full of goo. The water level was halfway up and there was the additional incriminating touch of a rim of sticky glitter. “Marley!” I shouted to her.

“Yeah?” she asked innocently, not sensing impending doom.

“Come here,” I instructed. She walked into the bathroom.

“What’s this?” I asked, pointing at the blocked sink.

“I have no idea,” she replied, without missing a beat.

“You have no idea? Really? Well, what does it look like?”

“A blocked sink?” she asked, again with total innocence.

“Yes, it is,” I replied. “How do you think that happened?” “I have no idea,” she said. “Well, we’ll need a plumber to confirm it,” I began. “But I’m betting this is the result of slime, glue and glitter being put down the sink.”

“I doubt it,” she said, “because we were sooo careful, Mum, honestly, and we just didn’t put it down there.”

The next day, the plumber confirmed my unscientific hunch. “Looks like some gluey sort of glittery, slimy stuff and it’s broken down into rough sticky pieces that have blocked the pipes,” he announced.

“Marley,” I called out with all the calm of a serial killer. “Look, darling! The plumber found what was blocking the sink ... does it look familiar to you?” “Slime?” she replied. “Yes,” I replied. “So what’s happening with slime, darling?” “It’s banned?” she sighed. “Yes, it is,” I replied.