![]() ![]() Let pasta sit in the bag and turn it over every 30 minutes to redistribute the liquid.Shake the pasta in the color mixture until it is all coated.Mix rubbing alcohol and food coloring in the sealable bag.1/4 cup rubbing alcohol (70% Isopropyl Alcohol).Large sealable plastic storage bags (e.g.Here are the different ways you can create colored pasta for crafts: Method #1: Food Coloring and Rubbing Alcohol Plus it will make the fun last longer as you dye it one day and then craft with it the next! You may be wondering how you get the various colors. And we had a real tree this time.You can make the macaroni art crafts I’ve gathered here using plain dry pasta, but dyeing or painting it different colors will make it much more exciting. Mine was purple with a banana seat and it was the best bike I ever had. It wasn’t until the following Christmas that we all got new bikes. “Your father and I noticed how often you and your brothers were riding them, so we decided that all of you must love Big Wheels so much that we told Santa to get you new ones,” she said. Later that night, when Mom came in to kiss me good night, I asked her why we got Big Wheels again. Santa had tricked us! Our joy bubble had burst and my brothers and I wore such long faces that day our father promised us that we would have a real tree next year. But in the corner were three new Big Wheels with bright red or green bows fasented on each. Underneath the ugly tree were presents galore! Santa had come. When my parents got up, my brothers and I raced down the stairs. Excited, I grabbed my stocking that was left on the floor by Santa and carefully pulled each item from the red and white stocking a box of Lifesavers, packs of gum, a CrackJack box, a new Dawn doll and doll clothes, a Hotwheels car, socks, gloves and a roll of quarters. “Of course,” I said, crossing my fingers. “Were you a good girl this year?” He asked me. I whispered in his ear when it was my turn to sit with him on the couch, and I told him about our shameful tree and would he still bring us presents? Kid logic at work!Īt Christmas Eve Santa came to our house for his yearly visit. We rode them all the time, everywhere over rocks, in mud, into trees, into the lake, all in the hopes that these Big Wheels would go kaput! And then it would be obvious that we needed to get bikes. So we devised a plan in the summer to ride our Big Wheels into the ground. My brothers and I decided that we needed real bikes this year. I also planned to make a gigantic pile of cookies for him as an added bonus. In spite of the golden puke tree we had, I felt certain that if I wrote Santa a letter, he would understand my dire situation and overlook our tree fiasco. No matter, I had more important things to think about, like building a snow fort, sledding, and daydreaming about the presents I wanted. It was the second time today that we tried to change her mind. Mom sighed, then opened The Courier Post newspaper, her signal to us that the conversation was over. I’m glad the blinds are down so the kids in town can’t see it. “No we won’t,” my brothers and I said in unison. “It’s a nice tree, Shelley, and your father worked very hard to make it.” Mom sat on the couch. My brothers stood behind me in solidarity, wearing sad faces and holding a box of tissues. “Why can’t we have a real tree like all of the other kids?” I lament to my mother when my father is out of earshot. He surprised the family with it two weeks ago to the horror of both myself, and my two younger brothers. He spent months creating this paper mache and macaroni tree in secret. Six feet tall, spray painted in gold, and covered in dried macaroni, it is my Dad’s proudest achievement and my Christmas Nightmare. ![]() ![]() ![]() Santa won’t deliver his presents to our house when he sees our Christmas tree this year, I thought, as I stared with unmasked hatred at the imposter tree sitting in our dining room in all of it’s gaudy glory. ![]()
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