Sharpie!

Jonathan is definitely going through a phase where he enjoys sporting black ink (or any color, really), and matching surrounding decor to his semi-permanent skin designs. Several months ago, I ran out of Mr. Clean Magic Erasers (I know, something a good parent should never do) and spent 15 minutes Googling before I discovered a testimonial involving some hairspray trick someone else blogged about. I figured I had nothing to lose, except perhaps some momentos of my son's childhood, and I practiced being an invisible "graffiti artist" in my own hallway. When I was finished, I had a very sticky wall with dark gray squiggles, and a very confused husband. "But James," I explained, "they said it worked even better than a Magic Eraser." He looked from me to the wall and sadly shook his head.

Several weeks later, Jonathan wandered into the living room, where I had briefly drifted to nap-ville. I woke up to Jonathan attempting to recreate a black and white TV picture. I told him how naughty he was and sent him to time out, moments before discovering that every appliance or piece of furniture in the living room and dining room had also caught the Black plague.

Practically the only thing Jonathan hasn't artistically re-touched is his brother. Probably because he knows Ethan will scream.