Deciphering dried toads . . .

The handwriting of some of the staff at The G's nursery is dreadful . . .
This is something that I must remember to take into account whenever I attempt to decipher the sheet upon which her morning's activities have, allegedly, been detailed.
I forgot today, when - at first glance, at least - it appeared as though The G had enjoyed her time playing with dried toads.
Upon closer inspection - and after quite some time poring over the illegible scrawl presented to me - I realised that it had been dried foods and not dried toads that had so captured her imagination (this still a strange pastime but one better than the alternative).
Given that The G had, at one stage, expressed a desire to use said material to make a filling for pies, it came as quite a relief to discover that there hadn't been an amphibian in sight . . .