Wall Prints

I did something I never imagined I'd do the other night - I washed footprints off the wall.

Now these weren't little decals or dirty prints close to the ground.  No, these were full on foot prints at eye level.  When I saw them for the first time, I did what any rational parent would do.  I screamed for my daughter.

"RACHEL!"

"Yes, daddy?" she says as she comes around the corner, her eyes wide and innocent.  Of course, a puma's eyes are wide and innocent just before they leap.

Over the next several minutes, I begin to piece together a picture of what she did.  It seems that the gap in between the couch and the wall is perfect for my child to leap up, use the wall as a springboard, and flip onto the couch's armrest.  And since Rachel usually goes barefoot, those dirty little feet leave quite the impression.

It only occurred to me in retrospect to have her scrub the wall, just like most of my parental ideas almost always occur after I or my wife have taken care of the problem(admittedly, she's much better than I am).  I'm the one who will flush the toilet rather than call for her(I need to pee right then), or I'm the one who will turn off the light(because I'm an OCD anal retentive fool).  Rachel would've likely learned a better lesson if she's scrubbed the black feet off the wall.  Oh well...there's always next time.

Because if there's one thing certain in a life with this little girl, it's that there will be a next time.

Russ