Bath Bombs and Toys That Help Make Them
Bath bomb makers remind me of the process to make peanut butter, but I am convinced the bath bomb maker maker we own was invented by the same guy who invented the ten speed bicycle seat. No. I'm not at all impressed.
It's our own fault. It recently was our middle grandchild's sixth birthday, and my hubby, Grandpa, picked her out a bath bomb maker. The bombs are supposed to be fun to create.
Ha, ha, ha, ha.
No, really. They are fun.
My son brought the unopened gift over when we watched the girls on Saturday. I didn't notice his gritted teeth smile. It was odd, however, when we unpacked the maker that my hubby started coloring in a color book and pretended to ignore us.
The machine looks like an old fashioned Daisy mixer. You dump the powders, A, B and C in the top, add some smelly oil, and then add a tiny amount of water. Then you must twist like crazy and dump them out a little trap door on the bottom onto two same shaped molds on a sliding foldy thing.
Problem is compounded when you have to be the direction reader, and director and implementer and at some point your logical mind steps in and over thinks.
Added to that, trying to let the two young people participate, while realizing half way through that there are a few differences of process.
First off, there is a color packet labeled A. The birthday girl has decided that she wants a multi-colored bath bomb. I have already dumped the entire package in and must retrieve half of it. It reminds me of jello. There is no obvious color until it gets wet with the oil.
I feel tortured, but must remain calm. My hubby continues to color. Quietly. Again, I look through the packets. There's packet B, and packet C.
I'm looking for wet ingredients while listening to the girls argue about opening the second packet of A. The second packet guarantees a two color bath bomb.
Nope. There are no wet ingredients. No little bottle. No. Just a dropper. A dropper with clear, teeny tiny little raised letters in metric measurements. Oh. Grandma is having such fun.
So. I found a pill bottle to put oil in. I found a bottle of raspberry extract for scent. There was a minute amount left. I ended up dumping the canola oil in the extract bottle for the next batch.
So. Dropper full of oil. Raspberry scent. Dropper full of water. Turn crank. Turn it for 60 seconds. Hurry. That is 6-0 seconds. Oh. Great there is no timer included either.
According to a 6 year old, you must do the 60 seconds at least twice to make sure the bath bomb knows you are boss.
So, now to open the little trap door, dump some crumbly stuff into the mold. Oh. By the way, did anyone check the orientation of the two molds?
No. They are not oriented and the actual mold folder is on the track upside down.
So. Mold folder turned over. 2nd mold located, and second dropping of bath bomb crumbles dropped into second mold. Now to fold and squish together.
Grandma. We need to add charms into the bath bomb.
Umm. But. The charms need to be in there before we fold the foldy thing.
Hmmm. On to second mold. First one was a heart. Second one is maybe a diamond shape. First I thought pyramid, but no, it has a top and bottom.
I don't think the charms ended up in the diamond either. My son showed up and the table was here to there with little crumbs, scattered utensils. In short, my son started to laugh. He had deliberately included that bath bomb maker in the stuff to do it grandma's pile. My hubby still coloring. Although he did peer at me a few times through the process, probably to correct the foul language almost falling out of my mouth.
Needless to say, the bath bomb maker is still at my house. It's in a boot box. I have been online to look up better recipes.