It all started harmlessly enough, or so I thought. Bellen climbed up into one of the chairs at the kid's table, in the playroom. She motioned at the crayons and babbled. I was trying to get dinner ready and wanted to occupy her. My fault.
I gave her a Sesame Street coloring book and chose an orange crayon, reasoning this color could do lesson damage than, say, a black or red crayon. Again, my fault.
I went back to preparing dinner, and all was calm. I know, from just over ten years of motherhood, that while silence is nice, it usual means something is wrong.
I walked to the playroom to find Bellen standing in the middle of the room with an orange MARKER in her hand. She had exchanged the crayon for a marker. Little pickle...she upgraded her coloring utensil!
It looked as though she had tried to put on "lipstick" and decorated her left wrist and right leg.
"Oh well", I thought. I chuckled at my naivety...thinking my 17 month old would sit & color,
snapped a few pictures and went back to the kitchen. (oh, and I did take the markers and put up high)