I had an essay to write last night but instead found myself sitting cross-legged on the tile next to our dining room table, watching a YouTube video on how to make the zippy chain bracelet for Rainbow Loom so that my distraught daughter could move on with life.
It’s the fact that twice a day since we bought this thing, the world spins out of control when, after forty minutes of tediously weaving A-bands over B-bands to make the Starburst Double Fishtail or whatever the hell you call it, my poor kid goes to pull her bracelet off the loom and the whole thing falls apart because of one rubber band that slipped a hook. And then I have to go in with special ops to fix it but can’t because—as Lainey so kindly points out—“you don’t even know what a triple single is.”
I am now Zippy Chain Mom which I’m pretty sure makes up for every time I’ve ever forgotten to bring juice boxes to the park. And while I jokingly bemoan the Rainbow Loom’s effects in our home, I’m secretly smiling. My kid is having fun making stuff. We’re equipped with jewelry for the next six years. And, twenty years from now, we’ll be sitting around the table telling childhood stories and, like the woven nylon potholder tales our parents tell from when we were kids, someone will pipe up with, “Hey, remember that Rainbow Loom kick we were on?”
Loom on, fellow Rainbow moms.