Why ever mother needs a white couch

Yesterday after lunch I put some Curious George on for Henry and went upstairs to get somethings done and rest. About 30 minutes later I heard Henry coming up the stairs. Imagine my surprise when he rounds the corner and is PURPLE! Arms past the elbow, the mouth, nose, chin, even his feet and legs. The amazing thing is that I stayed calm. Must have been sleepy. "Henry, what happened?" "I ate blueberries." "Oh, did they get on anything?" "yep." "Let's go see." We walk downstairs and find that my white couch has been painted with blueberry juice. Litterally painted. Here's some pictures.


One arm



a cushion

Blueberry Boy!!!


So we bought the white couch because it was super cheap at the pottery barn outlet (about 300) and because I had once read an article about a woman who loved having white couches with grandchildren. Now I'd successfully washed mac n cheese and dirt and other substances off the couch, but blueberries.... this was new territory. But hooray for bleach! Two bleach pens and one time through the delicate cycle with bleach and here's what the couch looks like.

Like new! Every mother should have a white couch. Nothing else could have handled the blueberries so well. (as the slight discoloration on my carpet and rug where little drops dripped shows. Oh well, as my sister-in-law says "you are more important than whatever you just destroyed." I love my little boy. He felt so bad, and wasn't thrilled about the time out that came from breaking the rule of eating only at the table, but no lasting harm. Whew.