I have about 20 Sharpies in the house.  I have standard black, but also every color they make.  I have the fine tipped ones as well as the regular ones.  And, I have recently discovered their Sharpie Pens – they don’t bleed through paper and have an ultra-fine point.  Perfect for mapping out business processes at work.

I think my love of them started when I would use them to write on CDs and DVDs.  Wait, that’s not true.  It probably started when I was 8 and was allowed to use the big metal Sharpies…you know, the ones that smelled funny.

The problem with this Sharpie addiction is the fact I have children.  Children, who don’t understand that Sharpies are not washable.  And, you should not use them to draw on things.

Like the dresser that Garbanzo custom built for our closet….

Indigo was trying to write her name and practice all of her letters, I think.  Because the dresser is kind of built into the closet now, I’m not sure how we will fix this without having to pull it all apart and stain the whole thing….a dark, dark stain – after a good sanding.  So much for the nice oak wood he used.

Or the nightstand next to our bed.  I’m just glad she didn’t open it. 

The Sharpies are now hidden in the house…mostly up high where only Garbanzo can reach.  And, Indigo knows they are off limits.  In fact, if she finds one, she now brings it to me. 

I just wish she were more like DJ….who made her little cave drawings in pencil.  I kept this one around because when she is in therapy, because I’ve ruined her life or something, her therapist might find it interesting.

She must have done this, the night she declared that I was the meanest mommy ever.  Clearly the adult is unhappy and the heart is crossed out.  I wear my meanest mommy ever badge with pride, much to her dismay.

God, I’m so glad we are past this stage.