I recently had a flashback from when I was a child.
I must have been about eight or nine years old and I was in the living room of our house in Fratton. I was sitting watching television, probably something like Fun House or Power Rangers.
I suddenly turned around and noticed my sister, who then would have been around three years old, had drawn the most amazing picture.
To be honest I couldn’t quite make out what the picture was supposed to be – it was just a colourful mess of lines, shapes and scribbles. But even though she wasn’t showing signs of being the next Vincent van Gogh or Pablo Picasso, she looked quite proud of her creation.
Problem was, this drawing was not on a piece of A4 paper or in one of her many colouring books.
Instead she had chosen the newly-painted living room wall for her colourful creation.
As it was summer, the warm sunshine flooded into the room and made the walls look brighter than they normally do, therefore making the drawing noticeable as soon as anyone entered the room.
And shortly after, our dad arrived home from work and spotted it straight away.
To ensure she knew that crayons and walls were not supposed to make contact, dad told her in a stern and authoritative way not to do it again, and as far as I’m aware she never did.
This flashback occurred last week when I was presented with the exact same situation with my youngest daughter. It seemed history was repeating itself.
Alyssa, who turns two in April, loves to draw. She has many colouring books which are full of various pictures, such as an elephant, a tree and a mermaid, and she sits quietly with her crayons colouring them in.
Even though she uses the colour pink for the elephant and the colour blue for the tree, it’s lovely to watch her being creative.
But it seems Alyssa has outgrown the faithful colouring book that has entertained children for generations and wants to move on to the next level.
Maybe she thought our living room could do with a new look or a splash of colour. Who knows, but her next project took place on our living room wall.
Just like my sister, more than 20 years earlier, I couldn’t make out what the picture was supposed to be, another colourful mess of lines, shapes and scribbles.
Just like my dad did with my sister, I made it clear to her that walls weren’t the place for her drawings.
One thing I can’t recall from all those years ago is what my dad used to remove the crayon marks from the painted wall.
So far wet wipes and kitchen cleaner haven’t worked.