The other day my youngest decided to become interior designer.  I had been busy for around 5 minutes with the plumber who had popped over to discuss the installation of a new bolier when I realised that my little darling was not in the lounge where I had last seen him and was being too quiet.  With the dread that only a parent knows I walked over to the stairs to call up to him when I noticed the first of several mall murials drawn with markers running all the way up the wall along the stairs.  He had even drawn on the carpet.  I had later discovered that he had also drawn on the coffee table, two of our book shelves and on several doors.

"What have you done?" I shouted as I stood on the landing in the ground floor looking up at him.  He threw a marker across the hallway upstairs so I wouldn't be able to catch him with evidence, though the marker stains all over his hands would be enough to convict him in a court of law.

I was very angry and was telling him off with each step I took going up the stairs until I reached the top and asked him what he was thinking.

He looked up at me with his most winning smile and said "Look Mummy.  I drew you a pretty picture" stood up then threw his arms around my legs.  "I love you!"

I could have cried.