I've been in this awful mood since the break up. It's relentless and has attached itself to me wherever I go, especially at work. So, yesterday when we had to participate in a mandatory storytime, I was less than enthused. All month long, we've been having weekly storytimes dedicated to one book and it culminated into yesterday's big event. All the managers participated. Not eager to read aloud, lead a parade or make hats, I chose to face paint. I think I've done it once before and honestly, how hard could it be?
The book is very cute and funny and the kids were quite adorable, which helped lighten my monstrous mood. Right after the story came my time. A very excited little boy rushed over to be first. We went to the table and he watched as I struggled to open the little tube of paint and pick out a little brush. Since the theme of the book was crayons, I thought it would be a great choice to paint one on his little round cheek. His enthusiasm was brimming as was mine. I was actually enjoying myself. A co-worker joined me and started painting a little girl's face. My joy was quickly dashed when, to my horror, I realized my green crayon looked exactly like a penis. Mortified, I tried adjusting it with more paint, only to make it appear even more phallic. I tried to offset my blunder by painting a balloon attached to a string on his other cheek. I gave up when I realized it only looked like sperm. Great, a penis and sperm. His parents were all happy saying "Let's get a picture." I grimaced and started on his baby brother's cheek. No more crayons or balloons with string. Thankfully, my co-worker whispered in my ear "My crayon looked obscene." He was having the same trouble. I mean, this kid's parents had to think that's what it looked like. They have three kids. They're well versed on genitalia at this point. I was thrilled to see that my shift was up and I tore out of there before I could see anyone's reaction to my artwork.
The moral to this story is never try to paint a crayon on a kid's cheek. Plain and simple.