Sidewalk Chalk

There are some things in life that are fun, but messy. Take homemade chocolate chip cookies, for example. The reward is worth the mess, especially if they are eaten while they are still warm and have ice cream on top. Or what about camping? I have yet to meet anyone who can actually live in a tent for a week without getting dirty. Oh, wait. Yes I have, but my sister in her white camping dresses is more of an exception than the rule. Then there’s childbirth. The messy part is universally agreed upon, but the fun part may be debated between the sexes. Either way, the result is always worth it.

Now let’s move into the world of a toddler. When a child lives in the sub three-year-old realm, the level of fun is exponentially increased as the level of mess rises. Think finger paints. Or Play Dough. Or, my favorite, sidewalk chalk. There is a reason it is called sidewalk chalk. That reason is quite simple: it was designed for use on sidewalks. The dictionary defines a sidewalk as a paved path for pedestrians at the side of the road. Where in that definition does it suggest that sidewalk chalk should be used anywhere near a back patio? There’s no road in my backyard, so I can’t figure out how the sidewalk chalk keeps ending up there.

Then, one day, I found the answer to my perplexing dilemma. Without warning, I came home from work early and found my two beautiful little daughters meandering about the patio with their sidewalk chalk. The task which they had created for themselves on this bright spring day was to change the color of the bricks that bordered the patio from a natural rusty hue to the brightest shade of hot pink that Crayola has yet to manufacture.

“We made the bricks pink, Daddy!” my four-year-old daughter, Maddie, announced as she saw me peering at them through the window.

“Thank you,” was about all I could muster while trying to maintain a fatherly enthusiasm that wouldn’t quash their creative spirit. My nineteen-month-old daughter was just as guilty with a stick of fuschia in her right hand and a hot pink grin plastered across her face. I turned my head from the horrific scene, unable to take it in any longer.

“Da-da.” The innocent call came from the other side of the screen door. I turned to see Little Miss Fuschia Hands, calling my name. My eyes met her just in time to see the chalk making its way across the screen.

“Great. Now I have a pink patio and a pink screen door,” I thought to myself. “Cami, no coloring on the screen,” I said with the fakest sweetness and sincerity that I could muster. Under most circumstances I would have been thrilled that she actually obeyed me, but this day was different. Moments later I heard a sound that was unmistakable. It was a grinding sound; kind of like when you take a piece of sidewalk chalk and color on the side of a stucco house. A quick peek outside confirmed my suspicions. The house was now well on its way to becoming pinkified. Oh well. At least it’s washable.

Fortunately for me, the sun did eventually set and the pinkification of the house and yard came to an end - temporarily. The following Sunday my sister came over for a visit. When Aunt Bekah comes over, it is a big deal because she lives on the Carribean island of Hispaniola in the country of the Domincan Republic. She’s there for a couple of years and we are taking care of her furry, but lovable sheltie, Halo, until she comes back. Moments before she was to arrive, I turned to my older daughter and said, “Why don’t you go brush Halo so that she looks pretty when Aunt Bekah gets here?” Eager to please, Maddie rushed to the garage, got the dog brush, and started brushing away. Eager to please, little sister Cami also grabbed the first thing she saw and started helping. “Why, oh, why did they not put the sidewalk chalk away the other night when they came inside?” I moaned to myself. By the time I intervened, the damage was done. Where the white stripe across the top of Halo’s head and down her back had once been, a hot pink blend of chalk and fur now remained. Then the doorbell rang.

“Might as well let her see the reality in which her dog lives,” I said to myself as I made my way to the door.