Mr. Potato Head

The eyes fit into little holes;
The nose, ears, mouth do, too.
Of course, you have some choices
But not more than just a few.

The parts are made of plastic
Though way back in my own youth,
The body was a real potato - 
That's the doggone truth.

The toy came with accoutrements - 
Each pointed, like a stud,
Which you stuck with wild abandon
Into any uncooked spud.

I told this to my grandkids' mom
Who, when her own mom spoke
Of using a potato, she
Assumed it was a joke.

But creativity was once
So simple, we've forgotten.
The only drawback was
Our masterpiece, at times, went rotten.