footprints

It's funny the memories that we pick and choose to keep along the way through life. Today was one of those days when I got a glimpse of the memories that Katie is holding.

Crayons. Shredded crayon actually. The undeniable, pure, unmitigated pleasure of shredding crayons.

To put this memory into perspective takes abit of a tale. Like most new parents, we were poor as church mice. Poor enough that a coloring book and box of crayons was considered a luxury. I wasn't being selfish, I made sure that Katie had her own box, but mine was that heavenly vision of perfection. 96 colors all new and perfect. Nothing compares to the smell of new crayons. Yep, it was the kid in the candy store effect, mine all mine.

So, my box was carefully put away, far from the reach of little hands; or so I thought. I still don't know how she knew where they were or how she managed to get into them. But like all the best laid plans of mice and men, there was a minor... derailment.

Katie had discovered the delight of stripping off the paper wrapper, madly coloring wild designs, shredding them into bits and pieces, creating new masterpieces along the way.

My poor crayons never stood a chance. I was devistated. My luxury gone. Evidentally, I made my point that day with Katie. Because it's been seven years now and she hasn't forgotten Mom's crayons.

Then again, she hasn't forgotten the pleasure of shredding crayons either.
I think it's time to buy her a new box.