This is what greeted me in Harry's cubby when I came to pick him up at school the other day:
A sweater covered in flubber. Apparently, he leaned into it or something-- I didn't listen too closely to the teacher's explanation because I was amazed that she thought I cared about the state of his clothes. I mean, it's a last season Children's Place sweater-- last SEASON. As if I mind a little flubber! I am just happy that it still sort of covers his wrists.
And then I got all paranoid wondering if I am that pain-in-the-ass uptight mom. And I might be. I mean I don't have him wear his Uggs to school because I think the fur would feel yucky with sand in it. Sometimes he arrives with a bit of product in his hair. He wears skinny jeans.
The director of the school even made sure she found me on the playground to give me printed instructions about how to remove the flubber with a wincing, "I see you found THE SWEATER."
Flubber is dissolvable in vinegar, which also made my washer smell fresh, and the removable instructions had arecipe for more! flubber! which we are definitely going to make because Harry LOVED it, and it's right up Jack's messy little alley, too.