Chocolate Milk: A Short Story

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Chocolate Milk
Ava had no desire to go to time out. None at all. Zip, zero, nada. So, there was only one thing left to do. She quickly ran to the garage and looked for paint. Yes! That color matched the carpet, sort of. Maybe. It would have to do. She found a paintbrush under the workbench, and made her way back to the living room, where the mess was. You see, Ava didn’t ever do these things on purpose. She was only four, after all. She was a sweet little angel of a girl, who loved her preschool, and loved her parents, and loved her new baby brother. Things just happen to her. Take this morning, for instance. Daddy had just left for work, Mommy was getting herself and the baby ready, and Ava was getting herself ready as well. She was a
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Then a thought hit her. Mommy. Her mother would be coming down those stairs any moment now. And with that, Ava sprang into action. What cleans up things? Water. Water cleans up things. She ran to the sink grabbed a bowl, filled it halfway with water, then went and dumped it on the carpet. That didn’t work. Oh! Right, she needs paper towels. Off she went. She placed two on the wet spot and tried to dry it. After quite a while (and quite a bit of paper towels) later, she stood up, and looked at the spot. It was damp, but not soaking (like Ava’s dress), but a brown spot was still there, contrasting against the tan carpet. What could change the color? Paint could! Paint could work. And next thing she knew, she had dipped the paintbrush into the paint and started to paint the carpet. Just like that, the brown spot was now covered with a lovely shade of blue. It didn’t exactly match the carpet, but it was close enough. She smiled, stood up, and looked over at the stairs. Her smiled disappeared instantly. There was Mommy, baby in arms, staring at her.
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