Tuesday, March 23, 2010

It was the best of Sharpie, it was the worst of Sharpie

***Sweet moment***

Waking up to hear bustling outside of my door from three little ones, giggling and talking. As I listened to the bustle, my heart was filled with singing birds from the joy I felt for my children. I loved early mornings with my brothers, and the secret imaginary world we created together (usually involving raiding the cupboards for Twinkies, but also other highlights, like picnics in the basement).

***Not so sweet moment***

Hearing Jack say to Andrew, "No, the Sharpie Simone is using is just a name of a marker. It's not sharp. A Sharpie is a marker that doesn't wash off." (Emphasis was his, but also appropriate for the re-telling of the story).

Me calling out from bed, through the closed bedroom door: "Does Simone seriously have a Sharpie?" To which Jack answered in the affirmative.

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the door I flew like a flash. And what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature daughter, drawing on my door. (Yeah, I know...I skipped a few lines. There was no sash to throw up. I did, however, want to throw up at the sight).


This is why I don't like mornings. On the mornings when it's quiet and I rest longer, praying the quiet calm isn't due to disaster impending, it's usually because disaster is impending.

***Super-sweet flipside to the Red Sharpie Debacle (which included my door, the white wicker dresser, the boys' mattress, and most of the wooden toy kitchen)***

Andrew's face when I opened the door, and his jumping-up-and-down glee as he exclaimed: "I'm going to lose a tooth and leave it for the tooth fairy and I ALREADY WROTE A NOTE! Actually, Jackie wrote it for me!"

And opening the note and seeing red Sharpie scrawlings that said (in translation):

"Dear Tooth Fairy. Andrew wants a surprise and he wants it to be an Anakin and he wants his head to not come off."

Real writing, for posterity sake (at some point, I'll figure out how to work the scanner to get in the original):

"De-r-tooth fire. Androo wots a supris and hee wots it too be eu anucin and hee wots his hed too not cum of."

So priceless that I teared-up, using only a few mixed-in tears from the violent Sharpie attack of the wooden play kitchen.

If anyone has any suggestions on removing Sharpie from...oh...lots of different surfaces...I'm all ears.

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