paint peeler

The first super-warm day of spring wasn't as great as we'd hoped, because Andy seemed to have it in for his little brother. Consequently, he spent more than a few minutes up in his room, often staring down at us in the backyard angrily from his window.

At bedtime, I went into his room to lower his shades. There on the floor below the window were hundreds of paint chips.

I said, "Andy! What did you do?"

He said matter-of-factly, "Oh yeah. I peeled a bunch of paint off the wall when I was in time out. It gave me something to do."

Obviously I wasn't happy, and told him as much, trying to emphasize how unacceptable this was.

He answered, in a very sensible tone, "Mommy, you don't have to look at it."