So, Asher has really picked up on coloring and drawing. He loves it! Any time he has the opportunity to use a pen, pencil, crayon, etc., he seizes it.
Last Thursday, at approximately 6:00 PM, Joe went into the garage to change a load of laundry and put in the next load. Unbeknownst to him, Laura had left a red Sharpie marker somewhere within reach in the living room. What happened in the ensuing five to ten minutes while Joe was changing the laundry can simply be described as and abundance of permanent artistry.
I arrived home at 6:45. I walked in the door and Asher comes running down the hall. Joe’s first words were simply, “Asher, what do you have to say to mommy?” Asher looks up at me guiltily and says, “Sorry”. I’m momentarily confused why he’s apologizing so I start to look around the room. "Why are you saying sor..." my voice trails off as I notice the entire surface of our olive green, microfiber chaise lounge is covered in red scribbles. That was not all. Three to four books were on display next to the chaise, opened in all their red, scribbled glory. Several toys now carried red markings, including one of my Discovery Toy tractors I use for shows.
I wish I had taken a picture of the massacre. No one would believe it now if they saw our living room. Of course, when I purchased our couch, Cainan was a year old and Asher was on the way. I paid the extra money for the stain protection. They guarantee any spot can be removed or they’ll replace the item. Standing there, looking at the surface of the chaise, I had visions of a brand new lounge.
Joe had pulled out some upholstery cleaner and once I had a moment to calm down and speak with Asher, I went to work on the chaise. Amazingly enough, the cleaner removed the Sharpie, with a lot of elbow grease. We now have a very clean chaise lounge, four fewer books and a permanent place to rest our ottoman (as to cover the spot on the carpet which we also discovered had been decorated).
Asher, although apologetic, was not very contrite. We believe he understands that if he ever, ever, ever finds a pen, marker, crayon, etc., anywhere, he is to bring it to us and ask permission to draw. He is not to take it upon himself to color anything. Of course, we’re not taking any chances—the markers are once again in a safe place.
Asher spent the rest of the evening showing me the toys he was still allowed to play with that had not been colored red, and which books he could read that were not obliterated by his red pen of doom. Again, his celebration of the toys he could play with lead me to believe there was little contrition. I did little to him other than talk; Joe had already banished him to his room and time out upon finding the freshly colored couch before I arrived home. He did apologize several more times when I told him how upset I was, but then he’d parade a clean toy in front of me and say “Look, mommy. I can play with this tractor. It’s not all red.” Hoping that would somehow cheer me up.