This is a tale from a few weeks ago now, but one I felt worth sharing lest The Olds should ever forget the trauma it caused. They have a memento for the time being, but we’ll come to that.
My story starts with Mummy coming home late from work, so while she and I had spent some time alone before nursery, with Daddy collecting me, I’d been by myself with him too. For the sake of no further arguments about when The Deed Was Done, that’s my little secret.
Daddy and I were in the sitting room when Mummy came in. “Sit down!” I ordered her. Amazingly, she sat! I’d pointed her to a seat on the other side of the room from where she normally sits, so I guess you could say she could see everything from a different perspective. They were chatting away when Mummy suddenly gasped a mixture of horror and disbelief as she noticed the floor beside where she normally sits. The noise was quickly drowned out by Daddy’s noise, more anger on top of outrage, if you can imagine such a sound!
They’d spotted my artwork on the floor. I’m not talking about a piece of paper I’d dropped, either. Purple crayon swirls, big and bold, straight onto the oak. Some of my more creative work, if I’m honest.
The volume increased considerably when they noticed that I’d not felt restricted and had continued around all four sides of the coffee table. Time to give them some space and appreciate it, for art’s sake. I left the room. I know now that they set about scrubbing the floor on their hands and knees squabbling about who was to blame. Like I said, I’m keeping schtum about who wasn’t watching me while I did it. I guess in the end, it was a good thing that crayon comes off wood, if with a lot of work.
Daddy was the one who noticed I’d sneaked off and he was the one who came looking for me. Cue that awful anger/outrage noise again as he found me and caught me red-handed. A red crayon this time, with huge, beautiful circle formations (not “scribbles,” as Daddy called them!) as high as I could reach in a 4ft long masterpiece on the wall in the corridor!
He was furious, (why was I so naughty?) I was furious, (how dare he not appreciate my creation?) and we both went running in to Mummy to tell her of our anguish. She laughed at us both which didn’t help.
For information, red crayon does not come off magnolia walls. Or at least, that’s what they tell me. I wonder if secretly they actually love it.