Periodically my wife has been brave (confused) enough to leave me at home alone with the boys. It was one of those occasions and I was feeling much like the circus ring master trying to keep their attention by directing them from one activity to the next. The natives were restless, and fearing the cooking pot, I came up with the idea to finger paint.
Pulling out the paint box, I realised we had none of the glossy paper that makes them work so well. Improvise...we don't need no stinking paper! wh(oops!) Picking the most vibrant colors I squirted copious amounts on the kitchen table for the boys to create their masterpiece. Enough of my faculties were in place to have them strip down to their shorts to limit the collateral damage.
Swirls and smears transformed into abstract art just as the phone rang. My wife checking in and for a brief moment I turned my attention...wh(oops!) Assuring her everyone was still living, I caught the first break dance move out of the corner of my eye. Little bodies (now multicolored) spinning freely in the slippery paint. Amazing what can happen in less than 30 seconds.
"Everyone stay right where you are. I am going to start a bath. We need to clean this up, mom is on her way home!"
Moving quickly to draw a bath, the pitter-patter of little feet met me from behind. Didn't I tell them to stay...wh(oops!). Peaking out the door, little blue footprints all across the new (yes new) Berber carpet. wh(oops!) Panic sets in. Limit the damage. Boys in the bath. Why isn't this paint coming off? Little eyes, peering out of blue and purple stained bodies, started to share my panic. Running back to the kitchen, past the drying footprints and oozing table. Grabbing the paint tube...ACRYLIC! Who put that in the finger paint bin! wh(oops!)
Panic escalated to hysteria. Burning through cell phone numbers of all the moms I know. How do you get paint out of carpet!?! Laughter echoed at my confessions, when we heard the crunch of gravel.
Turning to the modestly dry, still a little sudsy, mal-colored children and in desperation I cried "Your mom is home and she is going to kill us!"
Quivering lips shrieked "Really?"
"Yes, everyone hide!" wh(oops!)
We did not die that day on the slippery slopes of foolishness. I have redeemed myself since. But we did learn that when all of your choices are followed by wh(oops!) you might want to rethink your direction.