What's That Poem About Leaving Fingerprints on Walls?

You know the old poem that shows up every Mothers Day...

Sometimes you get discouraged 

because I am so small

and always leave my fingerprints

on windows and on walls

Well, I wonder what the author would say about murals, specifically murals signed by the artist.  See, this afternoon my attention was drawn to this:

The mural, the edges of which are visible to the left of the doorjamb, was surprisingly small, given the magnitude of the autograph.

The best thing about this is the way my discovery went down.

"Mommy, Luke's writing on your wall!"  Elisabeth exclaims, pulling me by the hand into the computer room. (I love how she calls it "my" wall!)

I study the letters on the doorjamb, barely glancing at the little boy standing to the side with a black crayon in his hand.  Something just doesn't seem quite right about the whole situation.

Is it that my child wrote all over the wall?  No, that's not that unusual an occurrence around here...

Could it be that the L is not aligned with the rest of the letters?  No, kids often ignore things like that...

Wait!  I have it!  It is most definitely that Luke doesn't even know how to form some of those letters, let alone form them in the (very close to) correct order!

I turn to my precious daughter.  

"Did you write on the wall, Elisabeth?"  Silence allows an apparent struggle in my daughter's tender little mind.  "Elisabeth, be truthful."

"I helped him with the K!" she announces at last.

Uh huh.  I thought so.

Whatever anyone might say about Luke's propensity to adorn my walls with murals or Elisabeth's attempt to help him autograph his artistry, I've chosen to cherish this incident.  I have a creative little boy, and creativity is something I can't help admiring, even if it is exercised in less than ideal manners.  I also have a sweet girl who loves to help others (both by aiding her brother and alerting her mother), a little girl who chose honesty in a moment when the temptation to lie was strong.  To top it all off, my children were working together.  However many letters she "helped" him write, I have no doubt he'd made his mark(s) as well.  Sure, I'm not thrilled that they bonded over writing on the wall, but don't we all want our children to work together, to help one another, and all that sweet stuff?

So, I'll scrub the wall tonight or tomorrow or the day after.  I'll destroy the evidence of this afternoon's activities and remind them when the opportunity arises, as I'm sure it will soon enough, that "we don't write on the walls."  But I'll hold onto the photo posted above, and I'll smile when I remember the incident.    

And maybe years from now, I'll slip a can of chalkboard paint in with a pack of diapers and tell one of them, "You're going to need this before long, assuming my grandchild is anywhere near as artistic as you were." Better yet, maybe I'll paint my entire house with chalkboard paint (it's tint-able nowadays), teach my grandchildren to draw on the walls, and then send them home...