It wasn't my idea, but I did think it was a good one. When Alexis' grandma called to ask if she would like a pottery kit for Christmas, of course I said yes. It sounded like the exact sort of project we like to work on during the week.
I. Am. An. IDIOT.
Evidence:
1. When the directions said "Start with a softball-sized piece of clay" they really meant "Picture a Smurf. Picture the size softball a Smurf would throw at Gargamel. Divide that by two, subtract a Smurf testicle, add in a Smurfette brain, and then you'll have the right amount of clay."
1a. If you don't know who Gargamel is, GET OFF MY LAWN.
2. The girl on the box? She's a liar and a cheat. By the time I got around to spinning the pottery wheel thingy (technical term), there was no smiling. There was no pristine clothing. There was no neat, clean pottery wheel. There was clay on the ceiling, clay on the floor, clay all over me, and DEFINITELY NO SMILING. Even Alexis was all, "Uh, this can't be right."
3. Despite the fact that I was covered in clay and looked more like Demi Moore than I ever have in my entire life, the ghost of Patrick Swayze did not materialize in my kitchen. NOT FAIR.
4. While I was busy looking for Patrick Swayze, Alexis gave up on the pottery making chaos. She decided she would rather color than spend another second with me. She might have mentioned something about "crazy" and "dirty." I'm not entirely sure; I was busy looking for Patrick.
5. Two hours, two Smurf-softballs-halved-minus-a-testicle-plus-a-Smurfette-brain-sized clumps of clay, half a roll of paper towels, and a partridge in a pear tree later, all I had to show for my efforts was this:
That doesn't seem right.
6. SHE IS A LIAR:
The smirk mocks me. The sparkling white apron mocks me. The perfectly shaped pot mocks me.
I'm going to spend the entire weekend trying this little pottery project all over again. Either I'll wind up with a masterpiece, or I'll figure out a way to wipe the smirk off that kid's face.