I have a favorite child.

Henry greets me downstairs at the computer the other day with a big grin and black marker covered hands.  I immediately shriek, jump up and run upstairs to access the damage.  I find thick black Sharpie marks across my coffee table, my end tables, my television, my leather couch, my cupboards, my tile floor and my dishwasher.  I ran around the room screaming, tears spilling down my cheeks, repeating the same profanity (think mild) over and over again.  I was in shock.  My little angel (or somedays I believe him to be) had honestly left his mark on everything in site.  I calmly put him in timeout, got out the scouring brush and began scrubbing away at the marks. I was half-tempted to leave him in timeout forever, but I knew he wouldn't learn much from this while sitting in the other room singing on his timeout chair, so I requested that he join in on the clean-up efforts.  I gave him a rag and he kept rubbing the same mark over and over again and saying, "It's too hard, Mommy.  It won't go away".  I wanted to yell, "I KNOW AND THAT  IS WHY I'M SO ANGRY"....but instead I tried my darndest to keep my cool and remember that these were all just "things" and "things" don't mean much. An hour later most of the evidence was gone, but my poor leather couch will bear his marks for years to come.  Maybe I will cherish those marks one day, who knows!

But, this little man who doesn't play with poop (just beaters and brownie batter) and can't get the lid off a marker just yet, moved up in the rankings and is holding strong.

Now if we could just get him sleeping through the night and his tiny hands off the Christmas tree he could be considered angelic.