Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Colorful Fighting
It seemed like a good idea at the time. Or, at least, not like a colossally bad one.
Mom was out for the evening at some meeting or another and it was back in the days when you could leave your nine-year-old unattended for an hour or two and no one thought much of it.
Things started out normal. Marc and I watched some TV or maybe played a game. Who knows? I'm sure I had homework I was supposed to be doing, but at some point, our childlike playtime devolved into childish arguing and, eventually, a fight.
We yelled and screamed and pulled each other's hair and I'm pretty sure I tried to sit on him more than once.
I really don't have any idea what prompted me to open the pantry door.
There on a shelf, tucked in between flour and sugar and other baking supplies, sat a small box. I pulled it down and opened it, withdrawing four tiny bottles. Armed with green and blue food coloring, I shot a squirt of color at my younger brother, catching him on the arm. He reached for the red and yellow and for the next several minutes, we squeezed drop after drop of vivid, undiluted color in each other's general direction.
Sometimes we struck our targets and many times we did not.
When it was over, we looked around at the aftermath, tried our best to clean our skin, and dashed to bed when we heard our mother's car pulling into the garage.
I lay quietly beneath the covers, pretending to be asleep. My eyes were clamped shut with dread.
It only took a moment for cries of "What the--?!", followed by the sudden flinging open of my bedroom door.
"Karen!" Mom shouted and I pretended to be surprised by the intrusion. "Get out here!"
I followed her down the hall to the kitchen where smears of blue and green and yellow and red had joined together to form a shallow puddle of brown.
"What! is! THAT?!" My mother made a half-hearted attempt to control her temper.
I shrugged. "It's apple juice."
Obviously, she didn't buy it, though my 4th grade brain really thought she did. "Why didn't you clean up if you spilled?"
I shrugged again, offering the standard nine-year-old reply to a question you don't want to answer.
"Clean it up."
I picked up a sponge and started to wipe. To my horror, the puddle came up, but traces of color remained on the white tile; and one section of grout had taken on a purplish hue where the blue and red combined. I scrubbed and scrubbed and started to panic. That's when I looked down at the carpeted edge where the kitchen linoleum ended and the dining room began. There were three spots of green in the brown carpet. Perfectly visible. There was no hiding that.
Mom reappeared with a bleary-eyed Marc at her side.
"What did you do?" she demanded.
I looked at Marc and he looked at me and we both claimed not to know.
Furious, she saw the color on our skin and ordered me immediately into the shower. There were spots of pigment everywhere. Up and down my arms, and most especially in my hair. After three rounds of shampoo, it was still noticeable, though somewhat faded, and my mother sent me back to bed.
The next morning I sat at my desk at school, hair pulled back into a long ponytail, careful not to push up my long sleeves and hoping desperately that no one would see the splash of blue at the nape of my neck. Embarrassment overwhelmed me.
It was just about time for recess when my classmate Stephanie, from a few seats away, caught my attention.
"Karen," she whispered. "Hey, Karen.
Stephanie and I weren't exactly friends, and whenever she spoke to me, it was usually to say something mean. So I tried to ignore her at first. But then the bell rang for recess and she ran to me, taking my ponytail in her hand as other girls gathered around.
"It's so weird," she said. "I think your ponytail holder is melting. Your hair is orange all around here."
I mumbled some expression of "that's weird" and ducked outside to the playground.
My tie-dyed hair and skin faded over the next few days, but my mom's anger didn't. And I'm not sure she ever quite forgave us. The tile came clean with a good dose of bleach, but those three green spots in the carpet stayed until we moved some five years later.
I received information about Clorox’s Bleach It Away campaign and am sharing my messy moment for the chance to win prizes from The SITS Girls. To learn more about the messy moment program, check out www.BleachItAway.com. Sharing your story on the Clorox fan page gets you entered for the chance to win $25,000 and daily prizes, and you can grab a coupon for Clorox® Regular Bleach.
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And now you know - food color is rather permanent!
ReplyDeleteThat is awesome. LOL reminds me of all the crazy stuff we did as kids and even if we did try and hide it Mom always just knew, like there was a different smell in the air or it was her sixth motherly sense she knew.
ReplyDeleteThis kind of reminds me of the time my kids colored each other's tongues...with permanent marker.
ReplyDeleteAnd they shrugged their shoulders when I asked them what had happened, as if they had no clue.
Kids will be kids, right?
Yikes! I would have been furious too!
ReplyDeleteSuch a great story! My brother and I had some doozies of fights too, but never a food fight.
ReplyDeleteThe kid in me screamed with laughter at your story (cool idea!).
ReplyDeleteThe mother in me blanched in horror.
APPLE JUICE?!!
ReplyDeleteThat response was priceless XD
I hope my kids don't ever come up with that idea! What a mess!
ReplyDeleteKinda like the day I made approximately 3 gallons of GREEN frosting! :)
ReplyDeleteLOL. The crazy things kids get up to! Mums are to be admired...I swear!
ReplyDeleteThis story actually brings me a sense of relief, because I often wonder about the endless capability for destruction that my kids seems to possess. Maybe they're not so bad after all . . . !
ReplyDeleteThis I can relate to. When I was a kid my sister was my best friend, biggest rival, and sparring partner. We had some great times and some real battles. We made our messes too.
ReplyDeleteLee
A Faraway View
LOL! Oh my gosh you and your brother were so BAD!!
ReplyDeleteThis reminds me of when I spray painted the side of the house and blamed it on a brother. Who knew that he'd be good for something, after all? ; )
ReplyDeleteOmg, this is HILARIOUS. And also maybe one of the reasons I am never having kids. KIDDING!!! LOL, I remember having these kinds of food fights with my brother all the time (though we never did find the food coloring, sadly).
ReplyDeleteOK, that is hilarious!
ReplyDeleteWhen my brother and I were kids, we decided using sidewalk chalk on just the sidewalk was boring. Word the the wise - sidewalk chalk does not wash right off houses and garage doors. They needed to do a whole new paint job in some places. My dad was NOT pleased!
All I can say as a mom is that I'm really thankful Mr. Clean Magic Erasers have been invented.
ReplyDelete