Not sure what came over my sweet little girl. We've gone from petite fairies to a tiny Play Doh man who is always having some misfortune befall him. She calls him Mr. Bumbo. A snake has him wrapped in his coils - about to strike, He is sinking in quicksand, has been shot with an arrow, Is about to be smashed into an Adidas tread pattern, gets abducted by aliens, and nailed by a rogue hammer.
Who would have thought that buying clay for a science lab would lead to afternoons filled with Bumbo's pain?