The orange marker

Today, I was in my office working and my children were playing semi-friendlyish on the floor near me. Anytime they’re quiet, I should really pay more attention. All of a sudden, Eli yells, “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Look at Georgia! Look! Look at her!”

I looked. Her back was to me, so I said, “What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?” Eli responded, “Her face! Do you see her face?” I told him that I could not see her face because she was looking at him and not at me, although I have to admit I was getting a little worried at this point.

Eli took Georgia by the shoulders and turned her around to face me. *gasp*

There she was grinning widely with her face covered in bright orange marker. I said, “Georgia! Were you playing with a marker?!”

Eli helpfully replied, “No. She wasn’t.”

Oh, really?! I then said, “Eli, were you playing with an orange marker?”

Eli: “Yes, I had it in my hand.”

Me: “Eli, did you draw all over your sister’s face with a marker?”

Eli: “Um . . . well . . . yes.”

Me: “And why exactly did you do that?”

Eli: “Um . . . well . . . because I wanted to.”

Me: “Eli! You do not draw on your sister!”

This is my favorite part. He looked at me and said, “Why?”

Ugh! I stopped myself before I could say “Because I said so!” and just said, “Because that is not a very nice thing to do.” Honestly, what do you really say to that? The other day he asked me why birds have wings. I hadn’t had any coffee yet, and it took me a full minute to come up with “So they can fly.”

Anyway, apparently, he thought that was enough of a conversation to satisfy me, and off he went. I was left with a grinning baby and a very orange face.

*sigh* I guess I should be thankful it wasn’t black marker.