Hello. My name is Katie. And I am addicted to Perler Beads.
I bought this bucket of fun for my girl yesterday. We played with them at a friends house a few weeks ago, and she LOVED them. They are great for building fine motor skills. They require just a pinch of creativity. And they keep a kid occupied for a good chunk of time. What is not to love?
We sat down and opened the bucket shortly before supper. My son quickly lost patience and declared the whole "game" BORING. That didn't stop me. Or my girl. We pressed on with our Perlers until we ready to iron our plastic masterpieces, rendering them eternally fused.
Oh. my. goodness. There is nothing like the feeling of melted up plastic beneath your hot iron! I could not stop. We kept on crafting through the evening meal, and right up until bed time. After tucking the kids in, I made my way back to the kitchen table, where we had been making the Perler Treasures, with the full intention of cleaning things up. But do you know what I did? I kept making. And making. And ironing. Until my eyes started to feel sticky from looking for the right color bead. Which was when I looked at the clock. Huh. 10:30? Maybe it's time I push away from the table.
I sat there looking at all of the fused plastic wonderfulness. More stuff. (It's just what I've always wanted.) This is when I tried to justify my addiction. Maybe this stuff could be worth something? No. No, it's not worth anything. Maybe I could make them into Christmas ornaments? No. No. ....No. Maybe I could give them as gifts? Only if I was six. Somehow, I think a melted plastic coaster is only endearing when your young grandchild makes it for you. The patheticness increases exponentially with every decade of age. I am not (always) pathetic.
If you ever come to my house, and open a closet door, and happen upon a huge stash of random plastic flowers, suns, stars and animal faces, please show compassion. I am weak.