Today had been a great day, Vernon thought as he lounged in front of the TV, snacking on a delicious burger as the love of his life prepared steak and potatoes in the kitchen.
The pathetic man on the television fell into a sewage drain and Vernon doubled over with laughter. Dudley bounded into the room and climbed onto the couch next to him. "Daddy, guess what I did!"
"What did you do, m'boy?"
"I painted!" Dudley held out his paint-covered hands. Vernon scrambled off of the couch and pulled Dudley off with him. "Duddy - son - Mummy doesn't like paint on her couch!" He winced at the blue and green smears on Petunia's peach-colored couch. "Maybe we should wash your hands?"
"But I like the colors!" Dudley shrieked.
"Of course! Of course!" Vernon backtracked. "But that paint will get in your food when you eat - yucky."
"Yucky," Dudley repeated, appeased. Vernon followed him to the bathroom.
As Vernon rubbed the last of the paint off of Dudley's chubby little hands, he heard a scream and the sound of glass breaking. He winced and rushed to the living room, certain she had seen the paint on the couch, but Petunia was not in the living room. He followed the squeaking gasps to the sitting room, and he found the walls and glass covered in colorful hand prints, a casserole on the ground, and his wife pale and shaking in the center of the room.
"Petunia, precious, whatever is the matter," he soothed, taking her into his arms. She squeaked and flailed her arm. Dudley ran up to his parents laughing.
"Do you like it, Mummy? I decorated!" he told her proudly. Petunia squeaked some more.
"Mummy loves it, Duds," Vernon spoke up, timidly stroking Petunia's hair. "Why don't you go get a cookie from the bowl?"
"All right!" Dudley whooped and ran into the kitchen.
Vernon turned back to his wife. "My love?"
She turned her pale face to him. "He's quite a creative boy, isn't he?"
"Very creative," Vernon agreed. "Perhaps he'll be an art prodigy."