Okay, so maybe it's a nostalgic sort of day for me.
I read about Mr. Bubbles going out of business over at Tony's blog. Mr. Bubbles, by the way, was the work of the devil. Let's just say I wasn't one of those kids who couldn't sit around in a tub of bubbles and not experience distress later on. I was red. I was itchy. And no, you don't really want to know where it burned.
Anyway, I thought I had this vague memory of this bath foam sort of stuff. It was like shaving cream, and in my head, I could picture the Super Friends or Superman on the cylinder-like can.
Thanks to the internet, which I would marry if it were a tall, dark, and handsome man and not a thing, I found what I was looking for.
Crazy Foam! This stuff rocked and was so incredibly cool.
I guess after the Mr. Bubbles episode, my mom wanted me to use it sparingly. It might have been a whole lot less time, but I think that can I had lasted me from about the age of 7 throughout my early teen years. Did she ever ration that out at bath time.
But, I suppose when you've listened to your young daughter boohoo about her hoohoo, you don't take your chances.
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2 comments:
I totally remember that stuff. I only remember owning 1 can of it and I'm not sure which it was.
My mom asked me a while back if I wanted some of my old stuff, one of which was a "Reginald Raccoon" bath toy that I'd had since as long as I could remember. All it did was float and hold soap cause the squeaker had died in it long ago. A few weeks later I find it in the trash and about lost my mind when my wife tells me she thought it was ruined since it had a bunch of grungy water stuck inside it from the kids taking baths. It never occurred to her to just pull the squeaker out and drain it, or that she should ask me since I'd had it since before she was born and had gone through specific measures to keep it regardless of its age.
I remember what you're talking about. Was it an Avon product? If so, I think we had one, too. My grandma was an Avon addict. If not the same, we had some sort of critter that held soap in what would be its belly area.
From what I've learned, some people don't understand emotional attachments to little things. My husband has said in the past, "You're emotionally attached to a rock."
I've got a rock that I found when I was maybe 9ish. It looks like it might have been worked in some fashion and it might have been a piece of a tool. It's on a shelf in my living room. When I moved to AZ with my husband, my rock went with me. I don't know why it has such significance, but no one dares to take my rock.
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