And, call me a killjoy, but my walls do not count as appropriate. Mad as I was, I was actually chuckling to myself that this never happened when Natalie was littler. She was not the perpetrator here. It was...Ben! With an apparent assist from Jack in the first picture (he added the purple, Ben was all black).
This is the result of me being very distracted this morning with the team of electricians at our house attempting to locate and repair the damage from our lightning strike before Christmas. Natalie had requested crayons while I talked to the men, then I lost track of where the boys were for a few minutes (the stairs up were gated, the stairs down locked, and all things dangerous to babies behind locked cabinets, so usually they just unfold a basket of clothes or unpack silverware from a drawer). I came back to find this artwork.
The top one was first when I was helping Natalie in the bathroom. I called the boys and they came running. Ben with the black crayon in tow, Jack with hands free. I thought, hmm...I hope Ben isn't writing on the walls, so I peeked in the bedroom and down the hall. Nothing! Good boy. Wrong, they had hidden their work around the side of the dresser where I couldn't see without walking all the way in the room. Then Ben must have proceeded with his work while I talked to the men. Oy.
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