I had just set down Tornado A’s lunch, when I looked around the room for him.  He was tucked in a corner, holding onto the side of the couch, trying to get to whatever Tornado S was playing with.  I walked over and picked him up.

Me: All right, little man.  Time for lunch.

It was then that I noticed his palms were brown.  All brown.

Oh.  Dear.  God.  No.

I turned him around and checked his diaper.  Nothing.  Thank God.

Then I sniffed his hands.  They smelled of nothing.    I didn’t think there was chocolate he could get to, but with the older two boys, one never knows.


I looked around.  I wonder where the brown marker is and what else is now brown.

I’ve got to keep a better watch on these kids.

3 Responses to “Brown”

  1. jc Says:

    You have to frickin lock them up!

    I have a feeling I know *what else* is brown.

  2. Karyn @ kloppenmum Says:

    Frickin marker pens.
    I hide the chocolate.
    At least he still had the diaper on…

  3. zeemaid Says:

    *L* I’m just so happy this sh#@ happens to someone else. Remember that Lonestar song… “Diapers melt in a maytag dryer, crayons go up in one drawer higher, rewind barney for the 15th time…. ” I love that video.

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