The message popped up on my screen this morning - a desperate plea from someone whose toddler had turned their mother-in-law’s beloved grey couch into an impromptu canvas using expensive eyeshadow palettes. Reading through the comments, memories of similar incidents with my own daughter came flooding back.

There’s something uniquely terrifying about discovering your child’s artistic endeavors on expensive furniture. The initial shock, followed by that sinking feeling in your stomach, and then the frantic Google searches for miracle solutions. Been there, done that, though in my case it was permanent markers on our leather recliner.

The internet has been having a field day with a hilarious post about someone lending their pristine Scrub Daddy sponge to their spouse, only to have it returned looking like it had gone ten rounds with a tar pit. The before-and-after photo is absolutely brutal - from a cheerful yellow cleaning companion to what looks like something excavated from an archaeological dig.

This resonates deeply with me. Just last week, my wife borrowed my carefully maintained kitchen knife to “quickly open a package.” Later, I found it lying in the garden, apparently recruited for some impromptu plant trimming. The marriage survived, but my trust in lending kitchen implements may never recover.