Color Me a Kid Again

One-a-Day Photo Challenge
Day Ten: Childhood

Today's topic was a tough one for me because there were so many options. Should I post about my own childhood? My children's? Childhood in general? Those choices were narrowed down somewhat by the fact that it's storming outside and the photo I post needs to be shot today. Then I thought of something that's inside my warm, dry house and symbolizes practically everyone's childhood: crayons.

Which child among you didn't love them? The bright colors, the way they smelled, the way they felt in your fingers, the way they melted if you were able to sneak one outside and leave it there long enough to watch the process?

Each year at the beginning of school I begged for the big box, and, usually, I got it. Money was tight at our house, but one thing Mother understood was that art sometimes depends on having the right shade of pink.

In preparation for today's photo, I looked in the old file box that still contains cards and drawings my girls made when they were little. I lingered over each one, loving it as much now as I did the first time I saw it. Because I couldn't choose between them, I decided to go with the oldest crayon drawing in my house, one of my own:

This one, drawn when I was "3 years, 3 months" old according to Mother's handwritten note, is pasted into the yellowed pages of my baby book. Mother labeled parts of the drawing: "ears," "belly button," and (eloquently) "titties," presumably because that's what I called them when I pointed them out to her. She also noted, "Slightly crooked but she explained she was bending over looking for her shoes and stockings."

That drawing is one month shy of being 67 years old. And that pile of crayons under the book? Those are the ones I have now. Crayons were with me early in my first childhood and, by golly, they're with me in the second one.

I don't melt them anymore.