Trust. Understanding. Children. Magic Markers. These words don’t even remotely belong in the same sentence.
My kids are normally well-adjusted, well-behaved and generally quite cute. Well, except when they’re having an epic throwdown, but that’s beside the point. Tonight we put them to bed, gave them juice, all the standard issue parent duties at bedtime.
Like usual they fought going to sleep, coming back downstairs to ask for this or that, and then playing in their rooms.
Finally, the whining and crying began to crescendo so Kelly decided to put an end to it. Trudging upstairs, I hear her exclaim ‘Oh my GOD. Chris, come here…and bring the camera.’
That just didn’t sound good. I wondered if one of the cats had done something, or if maybe the kids had spilled something or gotten into Kelly’s makeup again.
If only.
They found an art set one of them got for Christmas…which I was convinced was hidden safely in a downstairs closet. I’m not sure who instigated it, but they decided to turn my son’s bedroom walls into an impressionistic mural of some sort.
At least now I’ve got something to keep me busy tomorrow while it’s 10 degrees outside.
