Eight Crayons
Our first snow of the year ushered in a calm start to the week-end. It was the perfect kind of day to just stay home, snuggle up, read a book, or even clean out a crayon drawer.
Our crazy crayon drawer was overflowing with crayons, like foam running over the top of a glass of bubbly soda. Every end of the school year, the kids dump the contents of their pencil boxes into the crayon drawer, so to say it was full was an understatement Every color had to be represented at least two dozen times if not more.
My son looked up at me and said, “Mom, are we crayon hoarders?”
I had to laugh. “No, son, but we could be if we keep buying more than we need and don’t share, “ I replied.
Having a sea of crayons got me thinking about a time when there was only one special crayon box. This special crayon box had exactly eight colors. They were the fat crayons, perfect for all sizes of fingers that would use them over the years. These crayons resided in the top drawer of the buffet in my grandma and grandpa’s dining room. The crayons in the box had long lost their sharp point by the time I was just a little girl. The most popular colors were much shorter than the others.
This box of crayons was treated with great care. Coloring books were to be used on the dining room table and the dining room table only. It was important that all the crayons were used respectfully and that each crayon was nestled back in the box just they way they were found.
It was fun to see as I grew older, that the next generation continued to use the crayons with great care. One day my little son plunked himself down on the dining room chair with his Thomas coloring book. I walked over and opened the buffet drawer. The crayons were in their place, exactly as I expected to see them, just like a prize in a cereal box. I lifted the lid on the box and noticed they were all there just a little shorter than I remembered, and one crayon was taped back together.
I smiled. Eight crayons was all my grandma needed for three generations of kids.
Our crazy crayon drawer was overflowing with crayons, like foam running over the top of a glass of bubbly soda. Every end of the school year, the kids dump the contents of their pencil boxes into the crayon drawer, so to say it was full was an understatement Every color had to be represented at least two dozen times if not more.
My son looked up at me and said, “Mom, are we crayon hoarders?”
I had to laugh. “No, son, but we could be if we keep buying more than we need and don’t share, “ I replied.
Having a sea of crayons got me thinking about a time when there was only one special crayon box. This special crayon box had exactly eight colors. They were the fat crayons, perfect for all sizes of fingers that would use them over the years. These crayons resided in the top drawer of the buffet in my grandma and grandpa’s dining room. The crayons in the box had long lost their sharp point by the time I was just a little girl. The most popular colors were much shorter than the others.
This box of crayons was treated with great care. Coloring books were to be used on the dining room table and the dining room table only. It was important that all the crayons were used respectfully and that each crayon was nestled back in the box just they way they were found.
It was fun to see as I grew older, that the next generation continued to use the crayons with great care. One day my little son plunked himself down on the dining room chair with his Thomas coloring book. I walked over and opened the buffet drawer. The crayons were in their place, exactly as I expected to see them, just like a prize in a cereal box. I lifted the lid on the box and noticed they were all there just a little shorter than I remembered, and one crayon was taped back together.
I smiled. Eight crayons was all my grandma needed for three generations of kids.
Love those crayons!
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