When I tell my friends, family or co-workers a story about my life, they always say, “Oh my God, that’s so funny!” My standard reply is, “It’s funny cuz its true.”

When my kids were small, I saved enough money to transform the entryway of our home into a page straight out of a decorating magazine. I purchased a beautiful wooden sitting bench and an elegant mirror to hang above it. I painstakingly selected wallpaper with a small vertical gold stripe and the tiniest, most delicate floral pattern set against a background of white. I knew together, the wallpaper, the mirror and the bench would make a striking, yet warm and inviting entrance into our home.

I hired a person to put up the new wallpaper since I hadn’t a clue where to start and I wanted it to be perfect. To my surprise, the wallpaper was flawlessly installed in a day. I was elated! I enthusiastically positioned the bench, hung the decorative gold framed mirror, and lovingly added matching gold framed pictures of my children to the hallway.

It was finished. My vision, made into reality! I couldn’t have been happier.  I spent many of the days that followed standing in the entryway admiring its beauty.

Upon returning home from work one night, I was stopped dead in my tracks…low on the wall, across my beautiful new wallpaper, were some swirling red lines. I thought,”Oh my God, is that red crayon…red pen,  or worst of all, red marker?!” My heart was beating through my chest. Because the red scribble was low  on the wall, I knew it had to be my 4-year-old son Marc. My shock was now turning to anger as Marc greeted me by the door.

I forced myself to take a deep breath and smile. “Hi honey. Do you happen to know how these red marks got on the new wallpaper?” I asked.

To my surprise Marc replied, “Yes, I do. It happened last night when you and daddy were sleeping.”

“It did?” I questioned, “Tell me all about it.”

“Well, a burglar broke in,” Marc began.

“A burglar broke in?” I repeated, fully intending on seeing how far my son would go with this story. “Why didn’t you wake us?” I asked.

“I didn’t want to worry you.” Marc said.

“That was very nice of you, Marc.” I replied. “So, what did you do?”

“I just stood there. Then he grabbed me,” Marc stated.

“He grabbed you? You must have been so scared. Why didn’t you wake us?” I asked.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Marc replied.

“Then what happened?” I inquired.

“Well, he had a knife,” Marc said.

“A knife? Oh my God!” I shrieked.

Marc continued, “And… he had a red pen.”

I said, “So he had a knife and a red pen. Wow, that must have been scary. How did you get away?”

“I jumped out the window,” Marc explained.

“You jumped out the window…Where did you go?” I asked.

Marc replied, “Well, I ran all the way to Dr. Baron’s office (he was Marc’s pediatrician at the time).”

“Why didn’t you have Dr. Baron call me?” I asked.

“He didn’t want to wake you up,” Marc replied.

“Marc, let me go get the camcorder so you can tell me again what happened and I can record all of this for the police.” I left the room to grab the camcorder.

I returned to find Marc standing in the exact same place, looking white as a ghost.

“Mommy?” Marc said sheepishly. “I wrote on the wall with a red pen.”

“I know you did, Marc.” I replied.

“Wait, how did you know?” Marc asked, as I handed him  some soap and a sponge.

“Mommies just know these things, Marc.” I said stifling a smile.

Fortunately, the red pen came off and Marc never wrote on a wall again.

We’ve all heard the expression, “You can’t make this sh*t up.” Trust me, I don’t have to make it up as there is never a lack of material in my life…It’s just funny cuz it’s true.