mark’d

Last nite my wife asked me to get a marker for our 4 year old son.
(Haven’t we been down this road before?? You know, the road that involves a marker in the evening….)
But I went to the closet where we keep the markers and paper with him.

I pull out a marker, “I want a brown one” he tells me.
So I find him a brown one.
“No, a black one.”
I find him a black marker and give it to him.

Satisfied he runs off.

fast forward to this morning

I wake up.
My wife greets me with these words: “You know what Andrew did with that marker you gave him last nite.”
(Me? I just did what you asked me to do. Now ‘whatever he did’ is my doing??)
“Drew all over himself with it.” I calmly answered, still from bed.
(Like I shared already, I have been down this road before.)
“Yes.” My wife answered
“At least he didn’t draw on the walls of his bedroom” I thot to myself.

When I finally got a chance to see Andrew he did not look as bad as he had on a previous ‘draw on himself’ occassion.
This time, if we can’t get all of the marker off, I think we can cover the face marking with his hair.
The hand markings I do not care so much about.
I guess with child number three my tolerance has improved.

Perhaps all of his ‘creativity’ will serve him well some day.

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