Anyone with children knows there are degrees of screaming.

There is the “anger at sibling” scream, born of frustration or annoyance.

There is the “tantrum” scream. Jim is the only one of our kids to use that one, generally when he’s tired and grumpy.

Then there is a “genuine” scream, which every parent dreads.

Maggie cried a genuine scream this morning. In the flash of a second a dozen thoughts rushed through my mind.

1) What has Michael done to her this time.
2) That’s not an “anger at sibling” scream.
3) OMG has she been bitten by a snake?
4) It’s winter, can’t be a snake, unless she’s been digging in the long grass at the back.
5) OMG has she been playing with garden shears and accidentally chopped off her finger? Etc.

Rushing from my office I found her barefoot in the laundry with a blue foot.

Well, four blue toes to be precise, and half the top of her left foot was blue.

In between cries she protested innocence and the garbled story became sort of coherent.

I vaguely remembered her and Jim talking yesterday about making a tower from paint cans in the shed.

I made a mental note to self the tower had to be dismantled before a five-year-old tried to climb it and came clattering to earth amid a pile of paint cans.

Too late.

Maggie somehow toppled one paint can from the tower. You guessed it, the color was blue.

Paint spilled over the concrete floor of the shed and her left foot has stepped in it.

Fortunately it washed away easily, but cleaning up the shed was not as simple.

I couldn’t get cross with Maggie, of course. I just gave her a cuddle until she stopped sobbing, sat her on the washing machine and cleaned her foot.

I thought for a while about taking a photo of the foot, but it seemed inappropriate in terms of sending a behavioral signal to Margaret.

Unlike when she got caught by her pants in a tree several years ago at Porepunkah.