It was morning in Vallejo and I was about three years old. My mom was painting my room light blue, she was also making little silver sponge creatures. After a while she left the room, but she left the paint open.
I walked over to my room, there was no one in there, I could smell the paint. I looked at the paint, it was very interesting how it could make a wall look different. I put my hand in the paint, it was smooth and slippery, and I put my hand on the crate that was used for my toys, I lifted it up after pressing it hard on the crate, there was a sky blue hand print.
I kept using the paint to color the lid blue, until it was completely light blue on the lid. Everything was quiet. I went on to the walls, I tried making a little ocean kinda, I made handprints and smudges of paint, soon after my mom came back into the room.
“Wow,” she said looking at what I painted.