My seven-year-old daughter, Mia, came back from her father’s house looking completely unlike herself.
There was glitter tangled through her hair, and angry red patches covered both forearms.
“What happened?” I asked.
She stared at the floor.
“We made slime.”
That was all she would say.
I immediately texted my ex, Brian.
He replied that he had been out most of the afternoon and that his girlfriend, Tara, had been supervising the kids.
He insisted it was probably nothing.
That night, Mia suddenly woke up screaming.
When I ran into her room and switched on the light, I saw pink, sticky residue smeared across her sheets.
Her arms were even more irritated.
That was when she finally broke down.
Tara had been hosting a craft afternoon and made homemade slime using strong detergent, glue, fragrance, and glitter.
Mia said her skin started burning almost immediately.
But when she complained, Tara told her she was “being dramatic” and made her keep playing.
Some of the mixture had dried into Mia’s sleeves and later transferred onto her bedding.
I followed medical advice and got her checked. Thankfully, the reaction settled with treatment.
Brian was furious when he learned what had actually happened.
But what upset me most wasn’t the slime.
It was hearing Mia say, “I didn’t tell you because I thought grown-ups would get mad again.”
That sentence stayed with me much longer than the rash did.
