This seems to be part two of an entry I wrote a week ago. If you recall, my son painted a trophy at a pottery store. We decided that it was an award for being the messiest painter in Cincinnati. The young man is living up to his title.
Once again, we were painting. This time, it was at our house. My son was supposed to be painting wooden race cars.
"Mom, Bubba has paint in his ears!" my daughter informed me.
I looked at him. Sure enough, he had paint in his ears, on his elbows, on his neck, and in his hair.
I looked at the race car. There was actually more paint on him than on the race car. I really don't know how he manages it. The kid is good!
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