The little man sure knows how to stir things up. We’d been having another quiet afternoon when he came running up to me, waving his arms excitedly, trying desperately to convey something important about “the light”. Doubting he was having any sort of epiphany, I ran off in the direction he indicated…to find something more tangible. He’d knocked over the living room lamp…causing the bulb within to shatter. My first thought, naturally, was for the safety of our destructive monkey. But it seemed we were already too late. He appeared to have a cut on one of his cute little feet. J whisked him up to the bathroom where I rushed to pull out the antiseptic. While cleaning out the wound I noted the “blood” was wiping off in an odd way, and appeared to be more magenta than red. It took a moment to register…that it was fingerpaint from earlier in the day. Doh. False alarm. I kept the monkey safely occupied upstairs so that J could clean up the remains of our fancy light bulb…an energy efficient number that was supposed to last five or ten years (I doubt this incident will be covered by the warranty). Afterwards J wryly noted that the bulb cost more than the IKEA lamp it had been residing in.