Bug was obsessive. And my shadow. So anything I did, he did a million times more. For his sister's birthday, I painted her bedroom. Lime green walls, with cherry red accents. (Trust me, it will get your blood pumping first thing in the morning.) Mommy was painting, which meant so was Bug. I gave him a dry paint brush, and off he went. Painting his imaginary masterpiece. After painting all Fric's trim brilliant red, I carefully wrapped the brush in plastic wrap (I might need it for touch ups after all) and I carelessly placed it on top of the can of red paint, with the lid placed on top, loosely.
Again, not winning any mother of the year awards, I neglected my Bug and proceeded to paint my daughter's room a nauseating lime color. Feeling quite proud of myself for being such a wonderful, thoughtful mother to my daughter, I never noticed when Shalebug wandered off and got really quiet.
Now any parent worth their salt knows a quiet child is a child creating mischief. I, however, was too preoccupied, rocking out with Louis Armstrong and splattering paint all over the place to notice anything out of place. It wasn't until my phone rang that I noticed Bug was A.W.O.L. Suddenly, I have a mental fart and realize the paint lid was not on.
Yes, dear internet, mommy-of-the-year struck again. Bug grabbed the paintbrush, wiggled it out of the plastic and knocked the paint lid off the can. He then proceeded to dip the brush into the paint (because he really was clever!) and began his not-so-imaginary masterpiece.
Picture a four year old, wall to wall brand new blue carpet and lots of red paint. Everywhere.
To my credit, I thought it was pretty funny. It looked like Bug had killed a platoon of paint cans. And my angel, was smart enough to paint only the rug, and not our brand new furniture.
My husband did not think it was so cute. But he always was a bit of a fuddy-duddy.
And the upside is, my brand new laminate flooring is much prettier than my blue and red carpet.