So the little girls thought it would be fun to craft with clay.  Seeing they had a lot, I took some and starting carving a swan.  After a few minutes I left it on the table so I could write for a little bit.
  But when I came back down to work on it again, it was warm on the baking sheet and hard as a rock.
  You've got to be kidding me.
  "Olivia!  Why'd you bake it?!"
  "Sophie said that you said we could."
  "What?!  I never said that!   I told you guys like five times that you were welcome to bake your own.  Does mine look done?"
  "Yeah."
  Yeah, right!  I had carved the basic shape, but its body was still lumpy with my fingerprints.  The only thing that was even slightly done was one wing, which I had removed in order to shape properly and prick in some feathers with the tip of a knife, then pressed back on at the base. The other wing had been only slightly severed off before that first wing-creating step.  
  So gorgeously done.
  Too late to fix it now.
  So what's the moral of this story?  {Refer to title.}