Rainbow Baby, Where's my Pot of Gold?

As another example of what one very small little boy can destroy, Child Six became my little hippy baby the other day. He found the mostly full ink refill cartridge for the printer that Husband had absent-mindedly left out (and which Child Five had subsequently set on the floor). The next time I saw him (and you do know how very quiet naughty children can be!), he was covered in ink. His feet were black, as if they were about to fall off due to frostbite, his hands were also black, and his face and neck had smears and spots of various colors.

He looked, in a word, horrific. And so did the carpet in that room.

Child Five and I attempted a hopeless clean-up operation on Child Six with baby wipes. The ink changed from pitch black to layers of red, green and blue, which are still apparent in a slightly faded way. I guess Six had tried to drink some because his lips were a little black. Fortunately, ink is pretty nasty to the taste and he didn't get much in or I would have had to call Poison Control.

I really need to walk around with my camera attached to me at all times. Due to the urgency of the moment, it didn't occur to me to take pictures. I can, however, show you what that spot on the carpet looks like.