It should be listed among the rites of passage in childhood. Getting Silly Putty in your hair. Most children fall asleep with it in the bed and wind up with their hair matted in the stuff. Not Max. Max just thought it would look lovely in her long dark locks, so she carefully placed three blobs of it exactly where she wanted it.
Now, knowing Max, I did not purchase the Silly Putty. He sister had apparently got it from school and Max inevitably found her hiding place.
My husband is much better at getting her hair washed. Being 6’4″, he has the height and wing span that makes bathing a squirmy toddler easier than my 5’0″ frame. So, the job of Putty removal was given to him. I looked online for possible removal techniques and left him in the bathroom supplied with a variety of remedies from nail polish remover to baby oil.
One hour, three tub-fulls of water, half a bottle of baby oil, a third of a bottle of nail polish remover, and four shampoos later, Max emerges from the bathroom wrapped in a towel. Shortly, Daddy walks into the living room, drenched. “I never want to see Silly Putty again.”
The next day, after her hair was completely dry, I realized that it was still full of baby oil. “Come on, you little grease ball. Let’s go wash your hair,” I tell her. She follows me into the bathroom and we get started.
On the third shampoo, she stands up in the tub and says,” No more washing, Mommy. I want to be a grease ball!”