Sticky Sap

This happened a couple days ago, and it is too funny not to share, though mortifying to my daughter: Full of Spring Fever, we took a little walk around Thornebrook shops and noticed the blooming flowers. Brianna grabbed one of the bristle-brush type flowers (and almost a honeybee in the process) and wanted to bring a sprig of flower home to put in a dish or a vase. She was in the habit of doing so since last fall when going to Gramma's house; she would pick a few flowers and put them in a dish of water and observe whether they lasted several days or only one. Azaleas are very nice for this purpose, lasting days and days in bowls of water around my house. We got home, prepared the dish, and the bristle flower promptly sunk to the bottom. Brianna was so angry! "Why doesn't it stand up like other flowers?" Ever try explaining surface tension to a four year old? Rather than try, I suggested we go outside and find some other flowers to put in the dish, but this was met with resistance since we only had azaleas and jasmine and both of these had been 'done' before. Outside we went anyway, and Brianna spied the pine tree stump oozing sap from its sawed surface. I explained sap as nutrition for the tree, that it rises from the ground all the way up to the leaves; that, and it is quite sticky. It had to be felt to be believed, and thus prodding and poking ensued. Who doesn't like to play with a ball of sap? What tactile bliss! My SIL can be happily occupied for hours by a single inch of scotch tape, so I know the feeling. After gleefully gluing our fingers together, Brianna then wanted it off - immediately. "Don't rub it on your shirt ... OR mine!" I said, "Go in the house and wash it off with soap." Brianna trotted in, but Goby was right at the door and escaped. So I walked after the old cat to collect him from under the neighbor's car (he wasn't budging) when I heard the shrieking from inside my house from across the street (yes, your old house, Jo!). Brianna came out beet red, crying and screaming at the top of her lungs . . . because the sap wouldn't wash off!
I suppose good mothers wouldn't laugh, but this was too funny. Such out-of-proportion rage for such a little set-back. Then she was screaming at me for laughing at her, which made me laugh even more. Finally, I controlled my smirking face, convinced her to flush the cat out from under the car (which worked like a charm), and went inside to see what removes pine sap. In case you need to know: apply lotion and work it in, wash with liberal amounts of hand soap, apply alcohol based hand sanitizer, wipe vigorously on a towel. And my parting words to daughter, "Now you know sap is sticky."