The Mystery of the Permanent Marker
These pesky sons of mine. Seriously, I should write a book about all of the things they do. I’m sure the tale of my three year old vacuuming up my hair while it was still attached to my head would be oh so thrilling. Or what about the time my 3 year old and 18 month old conspired to crack a dozen eggs on the couch? Then there was the time that the coffee table was decorated with chocolate syrup. I could seriously go on for days. But I won’t because I have to tell you about the permanent marker incident.

The other day, I was talking to my mom on the phone and not paying attention to my 4 year old. After we finished talking, I put the phone down and saw, with great alarm, the cap of a permanent marker on the kitchen window sill. So, I immediately launched a search for the marker. I found it quickly and then started looking for the drawings — I was sure that they would be in the absolute worst place. Had the sofa been marked on? No. Had the walls? No. What about the floor? No. Not my quilt in the bedroom? No.

I searched everywhere and found nothing. That was weird but great. So, I counted myself very blessed and happily went about my day.

Later in the day, I saw my Northern Flicker outside on the birdfeeder. So, I quickly grabbed up my binoculars to get a better look. And, lo and behold, I found out where the marker had been applied. Where? You probably guessed it — the dear boy had colored in the lenses of the binoculars. That rascal.

All permanent markers are hereby banished from the premises because I know that next time it won’t be so easy.