The summer heat had turned the sidewalk into an unbearable river of lava, and with no shade to offer relief, we decided to stay inside. It was science day, though, and I had promised the kids we’d make Oobleck.
This week’s camp was small, just a few regulars, so I reluctantly agreed to try making Oobleck indoors. We covered the tables with cheap plastic tablecloths, fashioned makeshift aprons from plastic wrap, and even laid extra cloths on the floor to catch any mess. I hoped our careful planning would prevent a major disaster.
But things quickly went awry. I had grabbed four old Halloween buckets from the hallway, thinking they would hold just enough water to make Oobleck, but when we began mixing, we realized something wasn’t right. The mixture wasn’t thickening as expected. It remained a cloudy liquid, and worse, we’d already used up all the cornstarch.
Although our Oobleck experiment had failed, I tried to salvage the activity. I let the kids splash around in the watery mixture, experimenting with the cornstarch as it settled to the bottom. It wasn’t the exciting, gooey substance we had hoped for, but the kids didn’t seem to mind. Despite the heat outside, they were having fun with the murky water, and we kept at it for almost an hour. But as we began to clean up, we were hit with the next problem: the mess.
Despite our precautions, cornstarch was everywhere. The tables, floor, walls, and even the bathroom were covered in splatters. A dusting of cornstarch had spread throughout the building, including behind furniture and in the bathrooms. The kids were covered from head to toe, with cornstarch smudged on their faces and clothes.
I knew convincing them to help clean up was going to be a challenge. On a good day, getting them to sweep a few crumbs was like pulling teeth. I braced myself for the inevitable battle as I surveyed the magnitude of the mess. I had to find a way to make cleaning fun, or it was going to be a long, miserable afternoon.
In a moment of desperation, I had an idea. We had one mop handle, but I had seven mop heads and seven campers. It was a perfect match for a last-ditch plan. The kids had never been allowed to play with the cleaning supplies, so I decided to make an exception. I handed each camper a mop head, poured water on their mops, and gave them a speech on wet floor safety.
The scene that followed was pure chaos. What initially looked like an apocalyptic disaster quickly transformed into a controlled frenzy. The kids, mops in hand, scrambled to clean their assigned sections of the room. They worked together, splashing water everywhere but also getting the cornstarch off the floors and tables. It was a fun, energetic cleanup that they actually enjoyed.
After about 30 minutes, we had a floor covered in a thin layer of water. The cornstarch was gone, and the mess was significantly reduced. The cleanup wasn’t perfect, but it was far better than what we could have managed with a traditional approach.
There were still some leftover spots to clean up, but a second round with paper towels finished the job. Even today, I occasionally find a small splotch of cornstarch behind a piece of furniture, a light reminder of our chaotic day. It’s a moment that has become an inside joke among us, something we all look back on with fondness.