When Derek is home on the weekends, we have a very hectic life.  There is no lying around watching t.v.  There are trips to the park, trips to the lake, trips to the grocery store, trips to lunch.  Trips, trips, trips.  So after a morning of taking The Boy to the Park/taking The Boy for a Bike Ride/taking The Boy to Lunch/taking The Boy to get Milk, I was sure we were done entertaining this child.  I mean, other than school, that's more than he and I normally do in a whole WEEK let alone in one morning.  But NOOOO...

I sat down on the couch to surf the net and to generally ignore them both.  The two of them started digging around in the hall closet and normally that would have been behavior that would have gotten my attention.  Oh, that's right.  I didn't give a rat's ass what the hell the two of them were up to.  Burn the house down, for all I care, just give me enough warning to grab the laptop, the negatives to the wedding pictures, my cameras and maybe a pair of shoes.  I mean, it is winter. 

Derek started to get slightly pissy and I looked up to find him irritated because there were 38 bottles of paint and he was having difficulty (i.e. he had to actually open up the tops) identifying which had already been opened.  Apparently he had decided to let The Boy paint on this lovely 45 degree day.  I'm sure this is very exhausting work trying to find open paint bottles and that I should have created a "This has been opened on a prior occasion" sticker or separated them out but I don't find myself minding if I have to take 4 milliseconds to identify the open ones. 

I was slightly impressed.  I mean, allowing painting is a big deal.  Because allowing painting is signing on to allowing a huge mess, mandatory/immediate bathing and at least one temper tantrum because it is just all over too soon. 

Despite the fact that the following events occurred both within my eyesight and actually within 10 feet of my body, I can honestly say that I had no idea what was happening until, shall we say, the ship had sailed?  One minute I was sitting on the couch minding my own business and the next minute I felt that sneaky mom suspicion that something wasn't right.  I looked 2 feet to my left to find my husband with his nose buried in his book.  Hadn't the two of them being working on doing some painting?  I looked beyond him, out the glass door, to see my son painting on the back porch, in 45 degree weather, with no coat and no shoes on.  Did I mention there was no supervision as well?  And that the entire left side of his head was teal?  And that the dog was out on the porch with him?  And the dog had no supervision as well?

K:  Did you think to put a coat on him?
D:  (not looking up from his book) Nope.
K:  And the shoes?
D:  (head still buried) Yeah, no.
K:  Just out of curiosity, what made you think this was an independent study activity for the 23 month old?
D:  He's fine.  Look at him.  (finally looking up)  Oh, what's that on his head?
K:  An inordinate amount of teal paint.  You think he's cold?
D:  He'll let us know. (getting up to tear off a new piece of paper and opening the door quickly so he didn't get cold himself).  Hey, buddy, you want a new piece of paper?
E:  Os.
D:  See, he's fine. 

And he was.  What's a little bit of teal hair?