Our youngest son, Kiernan, turned 7 years old yesterday....suddenly, yesterday morning, he decided to start babbling.  Like a baby babbles, but he was trying to say something.

  I sent him off to school, on the bus, like every morning.  I warned the bus driver and attendant, who treat him like a grandson BTW, that he was a bit hyperactive today and "good luck with that". 

  I received no calls during the day from school, so I was hoping for a calm night.....WRONG!!!

  I was preparing dinner.  Big Pat was at Boy Scouts with Little Pat....Meaghan was at Girl Scouts...Caitlin was with her Recreational Therapist on a walk...everyone else were in their rooms.

  Caitlin comes home and goes upstairs to her room...she starts SCREAMING....and I mean SCREAMING....I run upstairs and in the hallway are these beautiful red handprints all over my new homes walls.  The walls are beige, the handprints red.

  I wondered what the heck that little boy got into.....well, it was red FINGERNAIL polish....it will not come off.

  Yesterday, I spent 5 hours cleaning out our garage.  I put over 300 cans of paint, yes 300, neatly stacked up.  I had to go through the paint stack to find the correct color...thank God they are marked.

  I will leave these amazing little hand prints on my wall until Monday, when I will hesitantly cover them with the correct color of paint....it will make me a bit sad.  You see, I don't see it as a disaster, but as Art.  I see it as a hand that will never be that size again.

  Of course, I can always look at him, he still has remnants of the nail polish on his stomach that would not come off in the bath.....