Let me back up. Way back to last week. One day, I looked high and low for a Sharpie to address a package I was sending off. My search was fruitless. The next day, I was putting on my makeup, which these days is a twelve second hack job where I cover up my under eye circles, jab myself in the eyeball with my mascara wand, and brush on some bronzer that I pretty much always forget to blend in. Anyway, so I was doing that and Vivi was "doing her hair". Which means she was rubbing her bald head with a pick and smiling up at me, which is about the cutest thing ever. And Anderson was making laps around the main floor on his Buzz Lightyear rocket toy. Until it got kind of quiet, and we all know quiet in a house with a toddler (or two) means RUN AND FIND THE TODDLER(s), QUICK, BECAUSE SOMETHING IS DESTROYED. So I do, and I find him in the laundry room with a Sharpie, a striped face, and a marked up sweatshirt. And a big cute smile, the superspecial one he uses when he knows he did something naughty and would rather not get a time out. He looked like this:
No huge deal, lesson learned, hid the Sharpie above the fridge (and secretly felt thankful that he found me a damn Sharpie), checked the drawers and found no more Sharpies. Good to go.
Two days later. We're rushing around trying to vacate the premises by 8am to go pick up my mom and drive to Wausau (where my sister was flying in). Where there's also a mall and restaurants (BIG HUGE DEAL), so I wanted us to look presentable. I'm dressing Vivian in my bedroom, and I can hear A in the next room on that rocket (again). Until he comes rolling in and I about had a heart attack. Because his face? Sharpie city. It was bad, yall. I start scrubbing at his face with a diaper wipe (half naked Vivi on my hip) ... then it dawns on me that he's still clutching a capless Sharpie in his left hand and looking at me like I maybe haven't seen the worst of it yet. My heart sank, because if he'd done THAT to his face, what else had he done? I ran out into the kitchen and you guys? I almost DIED. It was like a horror movie. The fridge. The hardwood floor. The wall beside the fridge. The stair rail. The console table. In the 3.5 minutes it had taken me to get Vivi's diaper changed and pull a onesie over her head, he'd whizzed around the room on his rocket doing a LOT of damage. So I took him to Wausau looking like this:
The kids at the mall playland were looking at him like he was a leper, but his auntie sure thought it was funny when she got off the plane. I didn't even notice until we got home that evening that he'd also tagged the fireplace stone and his Fisher Price house. In under four minutes, so clearly, he was a man on a mission. And I still don't know where he found that Sharpie. He's got a stash somewhere, I swear he does. He is so, so lucky he's so, so cute.
And just so you know, Mr. Clean Magic Erasers work on Sharpie. Make note of it, because even if you're pretty sure you don't have Sharpies within toddler reach, you probably do.