Eight days ago, Cara took it upon herself to decorate her room. With a cheap black crayon.
If you’re wondering, don’t go cheap with the crayons; buy the washable type. Trust me.
This was the result of Cara’s work:
Mind you, if she had put this artwork on paper, I would have probably hung it up on the fridge – even though they creep me out a bit.
What you can’t see is the rest of the walls that just had black horizontal marks all over them. She did manage to leave one wall pristine. I can only assume I interrupted her before she had a go at that one.
Since there was no way we were going to live with crayoned walls, we decided to paint her room. Of course Cara wanted pink. Cara always wants pink.
Tucker convinced me painting the room pink probably wasn’t the best plan since we won’t be living in this apartment for the rest of our lives and Tucker would probably be the one who got to paint the walls back to their original tan color.
Being the smart guy Tucker is, he got paint from the office and started painting tonight.
One little problem…not only did Cara expect to help but she also expected to help paint pink paint on the walls.
When she realized the paint was not only NOT pink but that she also was NOT going to get to help, Cara lost it.
Absolutely lost it.
I’ve become convinced a three year old girl is like any other human female who is about a week from starting her period…except she never starts her period. It’s like perpetual PMS.
That child spent the next three hours crying about everything under the sun. From Sophie not knowing Sophie’s “puppy mommy” to the office staff being upset that Cara had drawn on her bedroom walls. She was pretty darned determined to “tell the truth” to the office staff since she was pretty certain they were angry with her.
You could pretty much mention anything to her and she would cry about it.
It’s an understatement to say it’s been a stressful night.
And, once I got her quiet and tucked into bed, I kissed her head and told her goodnight. I thought I was home free. Until she started crying again.
I asked her what was wrong – all the while trying to hide my exasperation – and wouldn’t you know it?
“BUT I WANT PINK PAINT!!!”
I bet you five bucks she mentions it tomorrow.
