I got a little giddy today. For the silliest of reasons.
I have had a post rolling around in my head for a few days about crayons.
My kids get a pack of new crayons just about anytime we go out to eat. Most restaurants around here supply crayons and paper in an attempt to be kid-friendly. It makes me sad.
All those perfectly good crayons that get used for one meal. And then what? I put them in my purse, but forget to fish them out for next time. Or I put them in my purse and try to remember to take them home to add to the crayon tin (which I will have you know is a re-purposed tin of Peppermint Bark that makes me drool every time I look at it.) Or they get bussed into the trash by the staff.
At the restaurant where I used to work, we scooped up the crayons that hadn’t been germed on, or soiled with food and gathered them in a basket with rubber bands. Sure, they weren’t in a brand new box, but come on people. They have barely been used!
Some of the restaurant crayons are so cheap they literally break as you try to color. Which brings me to the real issue I have right now.
Think back. Didn’t you love a new box of crayons. The smell. The tips all pointy and sharp. And the 64 colors with a built-in sharpener. (Maybe it’s just me.)
Wait – sharpener? Huh? Yeah, today’s kids don’t even know what a crayon sharpener is. Crayons are in such overabundance, if the tip breaks off, you cast it aside for the next one in line.
We actually had to demonstrate for our almost five-year-old how to pull the paper off and keep using it when the tip broke off.
I admit to buying some extra boxes of crayons when they were on sale at Target for $.39 a box. Seriously, how could you not buy them for $.39? I had to. Even though we have too many. (Can we really have too many? Doesn’t seem possible.)
Today some of my angst was relieved. During Maggie’s hush-time (she spends 45 minutes not sleeping, but quietly reading and/or listening to music in her room, while I catch a 30 minute snooze) she worked on a book of mazes today.
The next time I was in her room, my heart skipped a beat as I stumbled upon two halves of a crayon, with the paper pulled off. She only had one crayon and figured out a way to make it work.
All my crayon stress, resolved.