The Day The Carpet Died - 1989

We used to have a lovely soft carpet that ran throughout the house, and one day my German Shepherd puppy decided to snack on it, ripping a huge swathe of it out of the living room floor, two feet wide and the length of the room.
Luckily, we were covered by a new-for-old insurance, so another lovely soft carpet was soon fitted as a replacement, again through the whole house.
When my youngest two were aged about four and two years old, they decided not to wake me up straight away one morning, and broke into a cupboard while I still slept, discovering, to their delight, a litre tin of black gloss paint hidden inside it.

I woke about half an hour later, to the sound of squeals and giggles from the happy little pair, and that sprang my defences immediately into action.
They were normally happy, but this was something more..... you know that feeling you get when something, somewhere, has gone horribly wrong.......

I caught a glimpse, out of the corner of my eye, of several sweet little handprints perfectly placed on my bedroom wall, but ignored them, as they couldn't possibly be there, and my two babes could be in danger.
As I rushed out of my bedroom, I saw the sight.
Standing in the near-darkness of the upstairs hall was an apparition.
All I could make out were the few blond curls on the top of his head, and his big white eyes blinking at me. The rest of him was covered in black gloss from head to foot.
A small, black gloss cherub was frozen to the spot in my gaze.
Roxy quickly appeared behind him and she was daubed with small black handprints of two sizes above her completely black legs.
They were both terrified of my reaction and both instantly realised they'd done something I would not approve of.
I said, in a voice as menacing as I could muster,
"What HAVE you done?"
"I don't know!" - "Doh-know!"
To be honest, the sight of them was overpowering, and I popped my head back behind my bedroom door to stifle my laughs.
I wish there was photographic evidence, but the memory is enough to raise my smile, even 20-odd years later.
I didn't say another word to them, but grabbed my bottle of Polyclens (a paintbrush restorer), which I knew was okay on my own skin and put them straight into the bath to get the paint off as fast as possible.
I considered it was safer than leaving them painted, and I'd found white spirit burned me slightly.
Needless to say, I ran out, so when a friend visited and they were still greyish and in the bath, he ran up to town for me and brought back two more bottles.
It was Sunday, and "that was all they had", he'd said.
I splashed it onto them and Roxy started crying. It was hot!
Looking at the bottle, it wasn't Polyclens, but a version by another maker and it was going to burn their skin!
About an hour hour later I had washed them both clean, and they were looking pink and human again with no paint at all, so I left them in the bedroom in towels [still not speaking to them] and my friend and I inspected the rest of the damge.
Little black hand- and foot-prints on every step, all the way up the stairs; a two-year-old-Roxy-sized bum print on the built-in bunk bed [which I've kept]; handprints and smears all around the walls, just about everywhere in the kitchen had been daubed, but the "Pièce  de Résistance" was my lovely new carpet in the living room.
You wouldn't believe how far a litre of black gloss will spread when applied by Child-Roller!
I even found the screwdriver they had used to prise off the lid!
They had upturned the tin on the floor and Rikki had rolled through it like a little human roller, which is why I could only see the top of his head and his eyes. Roxy had sat in it and squished her legs around, so there were splashes of it spread far and wide.

They were completely unharmed by the paint, thankfully, and by the second cleaner, which rinsed straight off with the shower in the bath.

I did not even need to scold them. They knew exactly what they'd done wrong as soon as they'd seen me, and, as they'd got it out of their system there'd be no danger of a repetition. Their experiment was complete, and it was not a favourable result.

My silence was enough.
We used to have fun every day, but this day I was simply a carer, and they showed respect and didn't even expect mummy friend to play with and teach them new stuff after their little stunt. They watched me cut up my lovely new carpet and throw it away over the next few days. They also didn't like hurting my feelings.

The new carpet was NOT insured, and I have not been able to replace it to this day, but there were floor tiles underneath it anyway, and the true reason for my silence towards my little rascals, until they went to bed, was not anger, or even disappointment; I was quiet because I was trying so desperately hard NOT TO LAUGH!