Ink On The Couch

So I get this text from my husband:

So I was washing dishes and Mazy was playing in the living room. All of a sudden I realized she was being awfully quiet. I looked over there and she was coloring on the couch with an ink pen!!! I think I got most of it off with a magic eraser though.

I’m sure you’ve been there. Your child wanted to display their beautiful artwork, not just on paper, but all throughout the house. The bathtub, the refrigerator, the cupboards, and maybe even the toilet, with crayons, markers, pencils, and even pens. I know you are just replaying a scene in your head right now!

My initial thought was oh boy, but then I thought, well at least he didn’t mention any holes! That’s a plus! Then I reread the text. I thought okay, Dan was doing the dishes. Yup, I have an amazing husband. Then I realized Mazy was just being independent and finding her own fun. How is that a bad thing? And then the last sentence from Dan’s text solidified it all – “I got most of it out.”

It really doesn’t matter.

Yet I find myself at times getting frustrated when Mazy gets into something she’s not supposed to. For instance, seeing crayon all over our white cupboards. Seeing her snack, smashed all over our rug in the living room. But not a few seconds later, I tell myself…

She doesn’t know.

In Mazy’s eyes, an ink pen (which I probably left out – wait, I KNOW I did), looked like a writing utensil. This girl LOVES to color. I think she asks 5x a day to color (no exaggeration). In her eyes, she found a new medium to color on. A new design. Something at her level that she could reach.

How could we be irritated? Dan and I often say, now having a child, there is a reason why we do not have expensive things. I suppose for multiple reasons, but having things not quite perfect, says that our home has a beautiful child living in it. It bears the marks of love. It bears the marks of a child playing.

We have broken lamps, books, toys, scratched up end tables, worn out items, and I could not be more thankful for them. They tell our story.

What is not-so-perfect in your home anymore, thanks to the littles? What in your home bears the mark of “loved-well”?

I am thankful for a husband who loves our child well. Who is teaching her right and wrong, but also is giving grace when she doesn’t know.

And how many times do we make “mistakes” because we didn’t know? We tend to give grace quicker to ourselves than we do our children, don’t we? So the next time something may not look as “new” as it once used to, remember that first, they just may not know, it doesn’t REALLY matter, and your home bears the mark of love inside.

You will see your home and the things that occupy it, in a whole new way!