But Daddy Told Me To!

A walk down memory lane if you please.... 

The date is September 6th, 2007.

I had a five year old, and a three year old. Much less busy than now..... To be down to two would be considered a vacation in today's terms.

Let me set the scene: A mother sits, checking e-mail, a guilty pleasure. The baby naps, the eldest is occupied. Bliss.

Alas, her "Mommy Spidey-Sense" goes off! It has been 15 minutes since the last check in with her eldest son. The suspicious quiet raises her from her seat, knowing these things must be investigated.

She is heavily pregnant, and waddles her large self down the stairs, hoping that this trip will have been unneeded.

The Nintendo game has been abandoned. The living room is empty. The paint, last seen on the top of the entertainment unit, taller than a five year old has a right to climb, is missing.

Fear strikes the heart of the mother. She calls to him. Calls that go unanswered.

There is only one floor of the house left to investigate. The basement.

She reaches the bowels of the house, and can hardly take in the carnage she sees before her.

 Paint on every conceivable surface in the basement. 

The washer, dryer, the drywall was that waiting for it's installation.

The walls, TV, dressers, both front and back.
The melamine cupboards, the table, the futon, and the carpet.

 A lid to a large  Rubber Maid container had served as his palate.   Four colours of finger paint, masterfully mixed. 

Stunned, and speechless, she lasts views a few pieces of paper with foot prints on them, before her eyes rest on the culprit, covered heard to toe was covered in multi-coloured  finger paint. He was working on painting a small table. A masterpiece in his eyes.

Words fail, but she collects herself, before she asks him "What were you thinking??!!!" 

His claim in Response? "Daddy told me to paint the table".

A miracle occurs, and the boys life is saved by the mother's sudden impulse usher the boy up stairs, to set him in front of a movie.
She proceeds to call her grandmother, who chuckles and distracts her whilst she spends some time cleaning.
The boys seems to know what is good for him in that moment, and chooses to sit, angelic, in front of the TV.

 Many surfaces turned out okay, but 45 minutes of time spent cleaning was very tiring.

She returns to the main floor, satisfied a long last,  that she has done all that she can do to rid the basement of the pestilent paint.

.He however, is indignant. "What took you so long?"
When there is no response, he continues "Can I have a treat?"

Somehow he still, in his five year old confusion, looked legitimately put out that I was not happy to hop-to and get him is desired treat.

Nervy kid...... and yes..... In case you're wondering he lives to tell the tale. The Grandma who so lovingly gave him thus aforementioned paint as a gift lived also.