We are back at the house.  We have been to two soccer games, a baseball game and a Bar Mitzvah.  It is 2:30.  I have gotten it into my head that I am going to paint and stain the deck.  So by my calculations, if I multiply by 6, subtract 2 and assume 20%, I will still have no idea what I am doing.

Cooper comes out.  “Can I help?”

This is a double edged sword.   I would soon come to realize that “double” way underestimates.

Cooper proceeds to paint everything that is not supposed to be white.  And not with what you would describe as a natural intention to paint.  It was more akin to interrupting your child while they are taking a leak, having them turn, and pee all over the wall.  As I watch, Cooper stands up, pulls the sodden pain brush out of the can, turns, and splatters white paint in a beautiful arc, right across the deck floor.  Which was not white.  Well, not white until then.

Cooper is sheepish and, I, enlightened father that I am, gently smile and say, “don’t worry son, let me show you how to do it.”

Alright, that’s not really what I said but I am not sure it is totally appropriate here.

Ben then comes out and says, “Can I help?”   I still have Tom Sawyer images in my head.

This time I say, “Sure but let me show you how to dip the paint.”

Ben says, “I am not going to be here that long.”

“How long are you going to be here?”

He looks over at Cooper trying to scrub up the paint.  “I think that might wrap it up for me.”

And then, just for the capper, Christian stands at the bottom of the deck and frowns, “Daddy, I think I spilled ice cream on my pants.”  I glance over.  It is not ice cream.  He sat down right on top of the open lid to the paint can as it if was just the perfect little Christian stool.  A little latex paint moon.  Both literally and figuratively.  But now he is a like a drunk hamster holding a grenade.  “Don’t move!”

Last tip:  Don’t throw latex paint soaked pants in with the rest of the laundry.