Oh Paint

Up stairs. Down stairs. Laundry, cooking and cleaning. Weekends fly by in a blur. Every day picking up toys and shuffling clutter from room to room in order to stay ahead of the curve. I gave birth to two tiny tornadoes. But I can handle the clutter, the toys, sweeping the floor every other day (if I am lucky), 5 loads of laundry on the weekends and having to empty the dishwasher... yet again. 

But when I see THIS out of the corner of my my eye.....

My head rotates and I can't help but pour another glass of wine and curl up in the fetal position after grounding my kids for life and chopping off at least one child's hand at the wrist. They shall NEVER paint again!

Can you guess the guilty one? Handy Man had it all wrong. They are both professional liars so it was a bit of an interrogation process. Hot spot light. Solitary confinement. We poked the soles of their feet with the corn cob holders while hanging them up-side-down. Finally the guilty child confessed.

Paint is now banned in our house.


This is why we do not have nice things...