Actually it seems to shout, "Someone snitched a cherry! And squished it right here!"
I'll give you just a few clues as to who that little culprit might be: She's short, she's dark haired and she was recently half-carried, half-drug upstairs for a nap.
This dripping, crimson splotch is evidence of a well-known occurrence taking place in our house right now. I call it the "Me Do" phenomena. And it would appear to be genetic.
My grandparents (who faithfully read my posts here ... I love that!) would be quick to tell you about how I, at the tender age of 2, would toddle around, exploring the world, and declare, "me do!" to anyone who tried to help me with my shoes, blowing bubbles, eating breakfast or feeding the dog.
"Me do, me do, me do!"
Right now, Lydia is a full-fledged "Me-doer". Hence the cherry juice at the top of the stairs.
In itty-bitty Liddy's budding independence she is now fully capable of putting on her fop-dops (flip-flops), pouring her own cereal, changing her clothes, getting ice and water from the refrigerator, giving Gimli his breakfast and getting her own snacks (see cherry sploosh above) ... to name a few of her favorite tasks. She is also aching to be able to wash her own hair (too many eye-burning bubbles), ride her own bike (too short of legs) and pour her own milk (too much to mop up).
Which brings me to today's snapshot flashback ...
Another little two and one-half year old and the unfortunate results of them independently getting themselves a snack.
In the picture you can see sweet Ashley in the midst of a "Me Do" gone horribly, drippily wrong. I actually remember quite vividly running from my room to the kitchen at the sound of the hysterical screams piercing the air. I then remember, equally vividly, running back out of the kitchen to find the camera.
She was only attempting to pour herself a bit of milk following her nap. And much to her horror, the milk just kept on coming! For your own information, that is what approximately what half a gallon of milk looks like when it misses the cup, pours off the table and spreads across the floor. I love that she's still clutching the empty yellow cup and is simply staring at the puddle. What you can't hear are the sobs and sniffles from her failed attempt at independence.
So ... seeing as this is the sort of "Me Do" messes we have experienced in our house in the past, cherry juice rubbed into the stairwell wall is really no big deal. I guess.