Yesterday, I posted on Facebook a little exchange I had with my four-year-old daughter, Maddo, in which she, with her pre-kindergarten logic, described why she poured water onto a graham cracker on our sofa, thus resulting in a weird, mushy tan mess on the cushion.
When I asked her why she poured water on the graham cracker, her explanation was simple:
“Because I didn’t have any milk, Daddy!”
If you didn’t see it yesterday, you can read the whole exchange here.
Now, in case you were wondering just what could have topped the water-and-graham crackers-on-the-sofa incident yesterday, well…wonder no more. Because this scene occurred less than 20 minutes later…
Maddo comes to me in the kitchen while making dinner: Daddy? Can I have a paper towel?
[I give it to her, and then think something’s up]
Me: Did you spill something?
Maddo [Looking like she just bogarted the last chocolate chip cookie]: No…
Me: What did you do?
She then heads off to the corner, behind the piano that none of us can play, but which looks REALLY COOL, and tries to hide. I then see a smear of some kind on the hardwood floor.
It’s about four inches long. And it’s green.
And it’s paint. And of course, I react in a cool, calm, collected manner just like every parent would.
“WHAT IN THE [Fill in whatever you want. I said it.]??? MADDO, WHY DID YOU PAINT ON THE FLOOR???”
Maddo: Because I wanted to paint.
It should be noted that Maddo and Little Sis have one of these awesome 3-in-1 easels that my brother and his common-law wife gave the girls for Christmas. Chalkboard, whiteboard and a big roll of paper and four colors of paint to play with. All you have to do is pull down the paper and you can be Pablo Picasso if you want.
Which makes taking some of the green paint and decorating the floor perfectly sensible, right?
“MADDO! If you want to paint, you ask mommy or me and we will pull the paper down here and you can paint. Do you understand?”
Maddo: [Explosion of tears and wailing.]
I grabbed a few paper towels and some wood-floor cleaner and raced over to the crime scene. Amazingly, it all wiped right up, without a speck of green left on the floor. I guess kid-paint technology has really improved from the days when lead and oil were the main ingredients and if you got the paint on anything, it was on there forever.
The sofa. The floor. I hate to think what’s next. Just as long as the mess doesn’t end up on the TV.
Then again, I have been wanting to upgrade to a 60-inch model for a while, now…