Channeling Grandpa

We have a couple beat-up step stools we've used over the years to reach things in the kitchen. High kitchen cabinets, the top of the fridge, that kind of thing. In the old kitchen, the kids also used them to help Carey mix and stir. One was dark brown, the other maple. We let the contractors use the dark brown one for some reason and they covered it in joint compound and paint splatters. Nothing a belt sander and some paint couldn't fix, I decided. Lots of paint, said the kids. We had colorful quarts of it left from Greta's room in Alexandria. I envisioned rainbow stools, but the kids stuck to their gender stereotypes - Greta used only pink while Lincoln started with an aqua blue that he later mixed with pink to create a vague lavender. Greta was fastidious about the process, keeping paint off her dress and just getting a touch in her hair. Lincoln, of course, bathed in it, ruining a sweatshirt and sweat pants. When all was said and done, both kids seemed pleased by their efforts and each evoked Grandpa's fondness for painting. Greta did it first, exclaiming, "Grandpa would be so proud!" Lincoln waited a couple hours until his clothing had dried, then ran around the house yelling, "I look like Grandpa!"