Yes, I have seen the writing on the wall; and on various other surfaces as well: the floor, in books (the author signed his name and added a personal message, why couldn’t she?), inside cupboard doors, on herself, and even on the toilet. Her artwork was done with a variety of mediums: from washable markers (who are they trying to kid!), toothpaste (it cleans your teeth, but it doesn’t come off the wall very well), water from the mop bucket, paint (Daddy was putting it on the house – why can’t I?), and, last but most frequent, my make up.
My Mini Monet often signed her work. She used her real name, but when one of her signed masterpieces was discovered on the inside of a cupboard door, she claimed that her six-month-old baby sister was the artist.
The baby sister became a co-conspirator as she got older. Funny how they tell on each other when one of them looks at her sister the wrong way, but when one discovers the other doing something that they know will bring on the wrath of Mommy, like painting their legs with my eye shadows while sitting on the new living room carpet, they join in instead of tattling.
Another crafty idea that Mommy wasn’t so keen on was painting the toilet with lipstick. That happened a few times, so I had to replace a lot of lipstick. I’m sure that the girl at the cosmetic counter thought it odd that I would buy the same brand and colour so frequently. Somehow I just couldn’t bring myself to use a tube after it had been used to paint the toilet.
With most of Mommy’s make up thrown out with the trash, my budding artists had to improvise when they wanted cosmetics. Munchkinette Number One used a permanent marker on her eyelids, and we discovered that this product does deliver as promised. Hubby finally resorted to some pumice-based hand cleaner from the garage. That took the marker off, but left a rash around her eyes that actually took over a year to clear up. Munchkinette Number The Other One was equally creative. She got some blue sticky tack and used it as eye shadow. Our pediatrician removed it with tweezers. It took at least twenty minutes, and the doctor kept repeating “You will never do this again!” right!
My two artists are teens now, and they don’t write on the walls anymore. Their walls are so covered with posters, there is no space left.
These stories are used with permission, on the condition that the more I embarrass them, the higher their share of the royalties.
So my friends: always remember and never forget, that they are only young for a little while. Write down the embarrassing stories now so that you have material for your speech at their wedding receptions.