Most Nostalgic Moment of My Week: I Found Old Floam Under the Shelf

“Behold,” I said to no one, “the Holy Floam of 1999.”

My son stared at it.

Then asked, “Why is it crunchy?”

A valid question.

And honestly?

I didn’t have a good answer.

💥 The Nostalgia Hit Me Like a Brick of Gak

Here’s the thing about nostalgia:

It doesn’t come when you plan it.

It comes when you’re knee-deep in dust, holding a fossilized blob of childhood goo.

And suddenly — bam — you’re 8 years old again.

You’re sprawled on the living room floor.

Cartoons blaring.

Hands covered in glitter glue.

No phone.

No emails.

No adult worries.

Just you, your imagination, and a tub of toxic-looking green Floam that you swore was “a volcano.”

You didn’t care that it would never dry.

You didn’t care that Mom would find it in the couch cushions three years later.

You were creating.

Continue reading…