Don't you just hate that. No matter what you do, Mom is always there telling you "no, don't do that". Or even worse, when she puts that curse on you (all mothers do it). I can still hear her saying "You just wait. One day when you have kids I hope they do the same thing to you. Then maybe you'll understand."
I was only FIVE, how could I be held accountable for my own actions? How did I know that it was something that couldn't be erased? She didn't seem to get so bent out of shape when I use to write on the wall with ....... umm (how embarrassing), you know, POOP ! She'd just get a bucket of soapy water and wash it away, why was this so different?
I had taken one of her lipsticks and scribbled all over that green velvet love-seat. Hey, it kept me quiet, and out of her way for awhile, and I was really proud of my masterpiece. I cried as she tried to wash it off. But it never came clean, you could still clearly see "my masterpiece".
I loved that love-seat, and it quickly became part of my bedroom suite. When I became older and started having friends over, it was embarrassing to have it as part of my room. I therefore kept a towel over the seat at all times. When I turned 15, my mother decided that she would go ahead and have it recovered and let me pick out which color I wanted. I picked blue, and I showed it off proudly. She had the matching chair done too, but I didn't want it in my room.
Kept that love-seat all these years, in every house I found the perfect spot to display it. I didn't mind telling all of my friends about the awful thing I did to it when I was just 5 years old, everyone loved the story. And everyone guessed that my mother had placed "the curse" before I ever finished.
Never worried about that love-seat when my son was young, and he never hurt it in any way, he knew it was an important piece of furniture. He also liked the color blue, I guess that's what saved it.
But my daughter (on the other hand), when she turned FIVE, she took a small bottle of black PAINT and scribbled on it. But that alone wasn't good enough, she had to smear it into the fabric (still velvet) and top it off with glitter!!
I walked into her bedroom, yes I was keeping with tradition and keeping her room as I had mine as a young girl. Took one look at my prized and cherished love-seat. All I could do was break out in hysterical laughter, to the point tears came. How ironic she did this at the same age I had. I immediately ran to the phone and called my mother!
The news of the love-seat made not only her day, but her life. We both laughed for days, and still laugh when we think about it. And in keeping with "tradition", I'll wait until she is 15 and have it recovered. It's been in storage since then, still protecting my prize. Guess in 4 years she'll tell me what color she wants it to be.
Should I continue with the curse? She knows it was placed on me, and we laugh about it still.