Logically, I am aware of this. However this did not stop me from threatening to butcher my small children on the day in question.
As a rule, my kids are well behaved. Yes, they have days where they are obnoxious, rebellious and stroppy little pieces of work - but so do I. I guess as they do have my DNA, I'm at least partially responsible.
But as a rule they understand what they can and cannot do. They know they can make a mess of their toys, they can scatter them from one end of the house to the other. They know they cannot touch things that don't belong to them, especially without an adult there. My work stuff for example (I make bath and beauty products), can be left out on the table, and they have never once touched it.
Although this could be because I threatened to put them on the roof if they did (I honestly use this threat. It's fantastic, I highly recommend it).
On this particular day last November, the kids and I had all had breakfast, and I wanted a shower.
The kids were sat happily in front of the TV, watching yet another replay of the Peppa Pig DVD.
I started up the stairs and shouted out, "You two be nice to each other while Mummy is in the shower. I will be super quick, OK?"
They responded with the obligatory 'Yes Mum's' and I made my way to the shower.
Ten minutes. I was gone ten minutes, when I stepped out and noticed how quiet it was down stairs.
As any parent of a toddler will know, this is a very bad sign. Very. Bad.
They are either dead, or building a bomb.
I, towel wrapped around self, call out for my children. I hear a scampering up the stairs.
They then appear in my bedroom doorway, covered head to toe in dark blue, red and black paint.
I know straight away this isn't water colour paint, this has come straight from my art supplies - this is acrylic paint. My heart freezes, "What have you done?" I manage to choke out.
The joint answer from my offspring of, "We were painting!" almost gives me a stroke.
I slowly make my way downstairs, taking in the damage as I go; the little hand prints on the carpeted staircase, and up the walls, the mess of food at the bottom of the stairs, and then the trail of cornflakes and painted footprints to the massive lake of paint near the backdoor.
There were hand prints over all the clean sheets that were hanging up on the clothes airier, and all over the cushions of our new dining chairs. And I mean new. We had been in the house for under a month, and received the furniture about 3 weeks prior.
Just so the extent of the damage is not in any way exaggerated, I present you with a small collage.
It is safe to say that I could hardly speak.
I'm fairly certain my kids were terrified just by my facial expression at this point.
They were crying, attempting to say sorry, and then, just to try and make it better, wiping their paint-covered bodies over some of the clean towels - you know, so they would be clean.
I was shaking. I grabbed my phone, turned to them and growled, "Get. Up. Stairs. Get. In. The. Shower. NOW!!!", they ran up crying, and I threw them into the shower and turned the water on in one movement.
I demanded they wash themselves so I could go and assess the damage.
I went downstairs, and the reality of the situation really hit me.
I made frantic, hysterical phone calls - to my Man, "We will have to replace all the carpet! Oh God, what will we do?", to my ex husband, "Pick them up. Pick them up now. Pick them up now. I cant look at them. Pick them up now." to my mum, "*indistinguishable wailing*", and to one of my besties, "Help me! Please! I don't know how to clean this. I don't know how to do anything *wails*".
Within an hour the kids were collected, and my bestie and I had set to work on the mess.
We actually managed to clean almost all of it. The walls had to be repainted, but we managed to save the carpet with a mixture of washing powder and vinegar. The food was cleaned up, and the sheets and towels washed (unfortunately the wash failed at removing any of the stains, and so in the end they were all thrown out). The chair cushions were treated with stain remover, and we managed to reduce the stains by half.
The tiles were mopped, and the grouting cleaned with a mix of baking soda and vinegar.
(On a side note, I honestly think baking soda and vinegar is the single greatest cleaning mixture ever. It removes stuff that even bleach cannot).
After all of this, the kids were returned to me, filled with fevered apologies, and a promise to never touch paint without an adult ever again.
I will never forget how petrified they were when they realized they had not only pushed the boundaries, but smashed straight through them.
Safe to say, they have never done anything like that ever again.
I'm glad I took pictures all that time ago though, because just like any story, given time anything can be funny.... Almost.....Once my eye stops twitching.
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