I thought this a very strange question. Wanting to be patient and kind, I thought for a second, and then said, "They might. If a line is drawn with a pen, it lasts forever. But a line drawn with a pencil can be erased, so it doesn't last forever."
I was pretty impressed with my coherent answer. I mean, there are so many kinds of lines. Lines on a highway. Contrails in the sky. Checkout lines at the store. Wrinkle lines on my face. And I picked one good kind of lines, and gave a good answer. Rock it, Mom.
But Sam looked worried.
"A pen lasts forever?" he asked.
"Yes, a line from a pen can last forever."
"Is this a pen?" He asked, holding up one of my pens.
"Yes, that is a pen," I said.
"Are you sure it isn't a pencil?" he asked.
By now, I am quite suspicious.
"Sam, did you draw a line somewhere with that pen?" I asked.
He shook his head, no.
"Are you sure? I think you might have. Was it an accident? Did you draw a line somewhere by accident?"
"No," he said.
Steve is listening by now. I mouthed to Steve "I think he drew on something and he's afraid he'll get in trouble."
I searched the walls and furniture, but I could find no errant lines.
"Are you sure you didn't draw a line somewhere?" Steve said. "It's ok, if you tell me. You won't get in trouble."
Sam maintained his innocence. I kept up the search for ink, and then I noticed Sam was leaning quite intently against the arm of the couch. I forcibly moved him and noticed a two-inch line of ink on side of the couch. He was horrified, and very nervous.
It felt good to extend mercy instead of scolding and punishing. The ink came out with just a wet washcloth. The couch has been treated with some stain preventer. Aside from hot pink nail polish, nothing has been able to stain our couch.
"Next time, tell us," we said.
Though I am sure I never want to hear him say "Mom, does marker last forever?"
