My neighbor begged me to watch their kid for “just a couple hours” while they ran errands. I said fine because apparently I’m too nice.
This little dude spent the first hour screaming, throwing toys, running laps around my living room like it’s a damn playground. I step outside for five minutes just to breathe before I lose it.
I walk back in and see this mess. Kid found a whole bucket of paint somewhere and decided my couch, the rug, the carpet, and apparently his own body were all part of his little art project. Paint on his hands, paint on his stomach, footprints all over my carpet, and orange handprints smeared deep into my couch cushions.
And he standing there smiling at me like he proud of himself. Just grinning with paint all over his face while my sofa looks like somebody murdered a pumpkin on it.
I was so mad I grabbed the paint bucket, marched straight outside, and dumped the rest of it right on their front porch. If my couch gotta look like a disaster zone then their doorstep can match the theme when they get home.
Then I texted them a picture and told them they better bring cleaning money when they come pick their little Picasso up because I’m not sitting here explaining to my landlord why my living room looks like a daycare crime scene.
I walk back in and see this mess. Kid found a whole bucket of paint somewhere and decided my couch, the rug, the carpet, and apparently his own body were all part of his little art project. Paint on his hands, paint on his stomach, footprints all over my carpet, and orange handprints smeared deep into my couch cushions.
And he standing there smiling at me like he proud of himself. Just grinning with paint all over his face while my sofa looks like somebody murdered a pumpkin on it.
I was so mad I grabbed the paint bucket, marched straight outside, and dumped the rest of it right on their front porch. If my couch gotta look like a disaster zone then their doorstep can match the theme when they get home.
Then I texted them a picture and told them they better bring cleaning money when they come pick their little Picasso up because I’m not sitting here explaining to my landlord why my living room looks like a daycare crime scene.
