When I opened the box to take the photo, I have to admit that I still got a little charge. I don't care for the smell of these waxy wonder sticks, but the visual and thought of good times to come? Yay!
I took great care of my crayons, and could not stand to see broken ones. Those kids at school would just use them all willy nilly, with no regard. For what? I am not certain. A crayon that was worn down far enough to need the paper ripped for further coloring was pretty much dead to me. The box of 64, while delightful, put me in a bit of a quandary because it had the crayon sharpener built right in, but that required some tearing of paper, and the point just never looked as magical as a fresh crayon. Sigh, that was disappointing. I used to try to color my skies and grasses with a slanted grip so that the top of the crayon wouldn't get so flat. Oh, and in case there was any doubt in your mind, they had/have to be Crayola.
I was not, nor am, overly protective of my children's crayons. Those were for their enjoyment, however recklessly they saw fit. I just would not have wanted to share my own box with them. In fact, I think I did grow to have some appreciation for the worn down point of a green Crayola because it meant someone had been inspired. Little hands had drawn big things.
In an attempt to prove how far I have come in my crayon usage relaxation, let me show you what recently went on in my very own kitchen, at the hands of my daughter.Maybe I felt a little crazy at first...