Why is it that when children decide to break into paint to paint your walls, they always, always, always pick the bright red paint?
I came home from work tonight at 8:30pm, completely exhausted from my first week at my new job and my first full-time job in nearly two years only to find Jack covered in bright red paint.
I went down the hallway and there it was.
A red-striped wall.
A red-striped door.
Red paint on my couch.
Red paint everywhere.
My first inclination, of course, was to throttle him. Thankfully for his little neck, I had just come from a Y function where people had talked about how the Y had changed their lives when they had nothing. So, since I had a house and food on the table, I had been feeling pretty blessed.
Then I saw the red paint.
Though my clinched teeth, I said, "Jack, honey, why did you paint my walls?" He looked at me with those giant brown eyes and said, "But Mommy, I wanted to make the wall beautiful for you! Isn't it beautiful?"