Sharpie Markers are Evil

   This morning as I was cleaning Gabby's bedroom I came across a little thing I like to call the devil's spawn, also know as a Sharpie Marker. I mean in High School I thought these things were Awesome! I had Sharpies in several colors and doodled all over my notebooks with them. I'm pretty sure I <3 ______ and Lisa & Karis BFF in multiple neon shades covered every spiral and three ring binder I had! As I got older they became useful in other ways, labeling boxes when I moved or casseroles for the freezer. Then, duh duh duhhhhhhhhhhhh, I had a child. Her name was Gabby and she discovered these nifty, little drawing tools at the age of two. One day I discovered her in her bedroom where I thought she had been playing, only to realize she found a BLACK Sharpie and "re-decorated" her beautiful mural I had painted in the nursery. I thought that first incident was a fluke (yes notice I am saying first here) my pretty princess wasn't capable of more destruction like that.

   There were more, ohhhhhh were there more and not just incidents but children too! Along came Colton, my sweet little baby boy who cherished his mother and would never do anything at all to cause me stress. Please tell me you are hearing the sarcastic tone coming through? One afternoon Dewey dropped me off at the door of a local grocery store so I could quickly grab a few things. I came out to find my little darling, still strapped in his carseat, giving the Chevy Cruz's rear seat a makeover. Mind you this was Dewey's brand new car. I know, I know, you are asking yourself 1) Why does she leave Sharpies where her kids can get them? and 2) Where was Dewey while this was happening, I mean a Chevy Cruz is a compact car?

This is not my kid but I sympathize!

  
   Well kids are sneaky and Dewey probably dozed off, not too mention that he uses Sharpies for work on a daily basis. So no matter how many times I hide, throw out, burn, discard, give away, etc. they always seemed to pop up somewhere, somehow. Like the time yet another one of these little stinkers crept into my beautiful SUV (you know the one with the cream colored leather seats) and was used for another masterful masterpiece created by our eldest prodigy, she drew a big smiley face on the back of my headrest. In simpler terms, sharpies are to the Dunn household what ants are to a picnic.
  
   This all brings me back to finding one today. Over the years I have learned my lesson, don't buy them, don't bring them home from work, don't even look down that aisle at Wal-Mart. So where did it come from? Is there a conspiracy theory involving Sharpie markers trying to create nervous breakdowns in parents? I don't know, there may be or maybe we just have bad luck with them. I can assure you though that I snatched that marker up today and ran it out of town. The last thing I need is to have the signature of a five year old Picasso wannabe on my lovely, new, taupe walls. So until they are erasable, the ban continues...