Whether asked by Santa, grandma, grandpa, friends, neighbors, or any Joe on the street, my son P-Finn only had one answer when asked "What do you want for Christmas." That answer was surely stated "Play-Doh Barn." And by Play-Doh Barn my son was actually referring to the Moon Dough Barn he once saw in Target.
Play-Doh. Moon Dough. It was a minor detail that was lost on my wife and I. Now mind you, we typically thoroughly research every gift online to read product reviews and scour the webs for the bet sale price. But when my found the Moon Dough Barn at TJ Max for 50% off, she pulled the trigger and made the purchase without any further consultation.
And who can blame her? It was the one and only thing my son asked for, time and time again. It wasn't as if he asked for an expensive video game system or the newest and most expensive iTechnology. This was a Play-Doh knock-off for God sakes. I mean, lots of exploratory, imaginative, and fine-motor playtime… for cheap. Who would ever question igniting that Christmas magic by giving a child the one and only thing he wants?
Come Christmas morning, my son patiently waited to unwrap each present. I could read into his countenance. Each tear of wrapping paper suppressed the anticipated look of, "Will this be the one? Will this be my Play-Doh Barn? Did Santa follow through like I hoped?" And my wife and I… we played into the tension by ensuring the Moon Dough Barn was the second to last gift to be opened. Poor thing.
That look… on his face… when he finally opened THE GIFT! Sheer exhilaration. Every other gift was now meaningless. P-Finn had his one and only, his precious. Pure Christmas magic that you can only be viewed through the reflection in a child's eyes. The family rushed over to the coffee table to assemble the parts and churn the first Moon Dough barnyard animal out of the mold.
Let me tell you… the difference between Play-Doh and Moon Dough is like the difference between drinking designer bottled water and the brackish flotsam that floats past South Street Sea Port in New York City. Let me put it this way, Moon Dough is all the fun of a silica packet ripped open without the benefit of keeping dried beef or shoes dry.
The Moon Dough "Magical Molding Dough" website boasts the substance never dries out, is hypo-allergenic, and wheat-free. Seriously? Wheat-free? This ensures that a child can safely consume vast quantities of the Stuff ™, especially if they suffer from celiac disease. I guess that's a bonus over Play-Doh if your child also happens to suffer from Pica.
The product is like crossing three parts beach sand with one part Silly Putty-- very dry and gritty to the touch. At first, the Moon Dough was very crumbly until I kneaded it several times, and then it was slightly less crumbly. Just think back to making sand castles in Jersey shore days of summer hood past; it's like that, but Moon Dough is a finer particulate, and unusually dry.
Fortunately the assembly on the barn was a matter of snapping in a few plastic parts; that is where the fun begins and ends. From there, you smash gobs of Moon Dough into a mold atop the barn, crank away, and the barnyard animal while magically pop out of the barn chute. And yes, the first animal looked picture perfect. The second animal? Well, let's just say it resembled the man+fly monstrosity in Jeff Goldblum's version of The Fly.
The mold wasn't releasing correctly. Excess Moon Dough was accumulating in hard to reach places that compounded the initial problem. I attempted to disassemble the product, only to be blocked by deeply recessed triangle head screws. My wife and I were in utter shock. My son had that Christmas Story "Drink your Ovaltine" decoder ring look on his face. We quickly shelved the toy and gave P-Finn his last present: a Lionel Little Lines Polar Express Train Set.
Good thing our son loves trains more than anything else, as that last gift saved us from a truly embarrassing moment. in a "Daddy saves the day" moment, I jumped back onto Amazon.com and ordered the last Play-Doh Barn… but this time the real Play-Doh. Now if only my wife and I can concoct a Santa-switch story to swap out the products so the Moon Dough Barn can find its way into the deepest recesses of our garbage can.
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