Oh, dear. This was exactly the reason you never slept in. What, exactly, were they doing?

"Oh- babe, you're awake-!" Ace stammered. Your short toddler, Hart, stopped scribbling on the wall, eyes wide and a little too loveable and innocent. They both turned around, knowing the trouble they were in.

Dripping slightly from the wall, written in red paint, were the words "I love you" and "happy birthday"- the "birthday" written admittedly thinly and messily. It was the best a toddler could do.

Should you be upset about the presumably hard to remove paint that now covered and stuck into the fluffs of your carpet, or find the not-yet dried statements on the wall endearing? You opened your mouth, about to berate them, but the reminder that they were doing this as a loving gesture to you caused you to hesitate. Instead, the only thing you asked- for now- was... what exactly they were doing.

“I mean…” From your husband's lips came a nervous chuckle. There was a brief moment of silence, as if he were stalling- before his eyes met yours and he abruptly turned around. “We’re busted! Come on, buddy, run with those tiny feet!” He shouted, dashing down the hall. Your son was confused at first and stood there with his stubby feet with a brain-blank expression, blinking slowly. You stared at him with a concerned look for a second, before he suddenly got the memo, squealing and running alongside his dad with a fast waddle. You sighed, turning to the painted words on your wall. It did admittedly upset you. This would be tiring to wash. Hart's joyous, high-pitched laughter echo through the halls. Oh, whatever. You might as well play along for a little while, they're both just being cute in different ways.