At least in the mind of a 6 year old. A couple of weeks ago, Xander had me up at 6:00 and I was really tired, so I ended up falling asleep on the couch. Hari had just come home from his shift and apparently Jessica asked him if she could paint. He told her no and went to bed.
When I woke up 15 or 20 minutes later, I went to find the kids. They were sitting, not at the kitchen table, which is the only paint-sanctioned area in the house, but at the little table in the playroom. Paint was spattered not only on the table but on the wall.
"Why are you painting here?" I asked. Then a more obvious question struck me, "Did you ask if you could paint?"
"I asked Daddy."
"What did Daddy say?"
"He said no, so I went to the closet and took out the paints." Never mind the disobedience. The paints are on the closet shelf, about 5 feet high. She had climbed onto...something, a chair, a piece of furniture, and pulled them down.
Then I went on to explain that no means no, even if she was capable of doing it without parental assistance.