Giving a sharpie to a four year old and an almost three year old is risky indeed, but with my constant presence and standing close by I thought we’d be fine.
I promised my granddaughter we would paint the smooth rocks we had collected on our recent trip to the beach when I visited the following week. Yet as the day approached, I changed the plans and instead pre-painted the smooth rocks with black and white paints, thinking we could use metallic and bright colored sharpies on the rocks to avoid the messy paints.
I stood between them at the kitchen table closely watching the two happily drawing designs and colorful shapes. I ensured that they kept the coloring on the rock and not the table, or their hands, or worse their clothes. As we drew we chatted, and laughed, and shared markers and funny stories. The rocks stayed on the table and throughout the day we returned to add more shine and more color to any space left on their rocks.
Mid-afternoon my son entered the room to grab a cup of tea. Before returning to his office (the dining room) he commented critically on the use of sharpies. I shared that they had been great with just a little marker ending up on their hands. “It will come off eventually,” he noted. We chatted a few more minutes, catching up on a host of other topics. As my son left the room I heard a loud scream focused at my grandson. I looked around the table to see my little guy was on the kitchen floor, black sharpie in hand, coloring the hardwood floor!
Some quick google searching, fast scrubbing, and various products later we managed to lessen the damage to the kitchen floor. My heart sank as I scoured the floor and listened to my grandson crying over his errors in time out. I was devastated knowing I was partially to blame. I guess we both learned a lesson yesterday. I’ll stick to the messy washable paints.
It’s Tuesday and I’m joining the wonderful writing community hosted by Two Writing Teachers. Take a peek and consider joining in.
