The Story of the Paint

If you read my older sister's blog, you may have heard this story before. But I thought I would give you my perspective. Be prepared. It is really, really long. :o)

M___ had left the house to take B_____ to his doctor's appointment. I was left in charge for the afternoon. Take care of 3 boys and 1 girl, all under the age of 5? No problem. Besides, it was nap time.

So, while J1 and J2 played outside, I put J3 to bed. R____ didn't go down for another hour. So, I had a marvelous time playing with her.

2:00 came and I took R_____ up, changed her diaper, and placed her in her crib. Then, I went to make sure J3 was asleep. I cracked open the door, and there in the floor, sat J3 happy as could be, in a large puddle of...white paint!

Now what, you might ask, was white paint doing in his room? M____ and I had been working on doing some rearranging of the rooms and we had decided to paint the boy's closet. We had almost finished and thought we had replaced the lid on the gallon of paint securely. But I guess not.

J3 had found the paint and thought it a grand idea to dump it all out onto himself, and play in it. After all, playing with paint can be quite fun. Have you ever stuck your hands into the stuff. It is so slippery and gooey. It's no wonder that a little two year old boy would find it fascinating.

I looked at him, then looked at the mess, then looked back at him, and said, “What am I going to do with you?!” I then did the only thing I could think of. I picked him up, and took him into the bathroom, which was right next to his room, and plopped him in the bathtub and told him to stay there while I thought up a next step.

I proceeded in stripping his now white clothes off, and hosed him down. This was not pleasant as he is terrified of the shower massage. I went to get his clothes but realized that they were in R_____'s room where she was asleep. So, I put his diaper on him, and put him back in bed just like he was.

I then went and retrieved some rags, with which I proceeded to clean up the huge mess while playing watchdog with J3. While cleaning, I started making a list of all the things I was grateful for, including wood floors, instead of carpet, bathtubs, and the fact that the creativity of a two year old is only so developed.

Then, the telephone rang. It was M___ calling to check up on how I was doing. I told her the situation, but said that I had everything back under control and was taking care of it. She said how sorry she was that it had happened, and how she wished she could help me, and blah, blah, blah. You get the general idea. She then said she would call KJ, who lived on campus, to come help me out while I cleaned.

KJ came and took J3 and the other two boys, which I had practically forgotten about, downstairs and entertained them. She also put some fresh clothes on J3.

I returned to work on the floor. It wasn't until I had washed nearly half of it down the drain that I bothered to check and make sure it was water based. Thankfully, it was. So I continued to wash it down the drain.

Two hours later, KJ came up and asked to if she could go make dinner for her family. I was just about finished so I thanked her heartily and said she could go.

About fifteen minutes later, I was finished. I went downstairs, and counted boys. One, two,...OH NO! Where is J3?! I raced out of the apartment and searched the main house for J3.

There he was. Sitting on the landing going up to the girl's hallway, with a large, brand new bottle of Johnson's Baby Shampoo, empty in his hands. The shampoo was all over him, and seeping into the carpeted stairs.

I sat down next to him and looked at him and broke out crying “Why J3? Why? Why do you do this to me?” I could not believe it. He had dumped out another liquid. I picked him up and took him back to the apartment, and placed him once again in the tub and gave him another bath with the dreaded shower massage.

The telephone rang again. It was M____. “So, J___, How's everything going? Are you ok?” Forget the brave face, and list of things to be thankful for. “NOOOOOOOO!!!!” was the response to M___'s question. I am sure the thought she had was something like B______'s “Oh dear.”

I explained to her through tears what had just happened and why KJ had left. She said she would be home in about an hour. I asked her if it would matter if I waited until she got home to clean up the shampoo. She said it would be fine but to put a note near it saying that it would be taken care of. I got off the phone and put J3 in some fresh clothes and sent him downstairs.

A few minutes later, I followed. I found him under the kitchen sink, with the cap off of a large bottle of Pine-Sol. I quickly grabbed it before he could dump it out. I picked him up and took him into the living room.

J2 then came to me and asked if they could watch a movie. YES!!! What a marvelous idea! So the three boys sat on the couch and watched a movie while I wrote the note to put with the shampoo. Praise the Lord for little boys who come up with really great ideas.

I took the note and went to the shampoo. And there to my utter amazement, was KJ, cleaning up the shampoo. I broke into tears. “Oh KJ, Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

She had found the mess, and simply cleaned it up. (What a heroine she is!) The phone then rang again. It was M___, calling this time for KJ. She asked her to see about cleaning up the mess. They are all so good to me. I then went back to the apartment and watched the movie with the boys, keeping a close eye on J3.

M___ came home. She gave me a hug and told me to go take some time by myself to unwind. As I am one who is recharged by being alone, this was a perfect treat. I then went and took a luxurious 30 minute shower. I relaxed as I let the (dreaded by some, wonderful to me) shower massage pound on me. I came out, ready to do battle again. But thankfully no more incidents occurred that day.

Later that evening, J3 came up to me and climbed into my lap. I placed my arms around him and rocked him back and forth. M___ came by and saw it and said, “J3, Aunt J___ is showing you the love of Jesus.” And she was right. Even though we make huge mistakes, and horrendous messes in life, no matter how bad we are, or what we do, Jesus will still take us into his arms and tell us how much He loves us.

Well, that was the story of the paint. And if you made it all the way down here, I salute you. I did my best to tell it truthfully and unexaggerated. And no, I did not make it up.

That was an extreme day. The rest of the 2 months I spent there were not nearly so bad. In fact, I would do it all, including the paint, again in a heart beat.
:o)