blue crayon

the dishwasher lurches and swishes its water against the crusted-over kitchen ware i shoved inside it--my half-assed attempt at housewifery for the day. the floor here in the kitchen is littered with construction paper-- be-scribbled reds, pinks, blues, and yellows hiding the boring beigy vinyl underneath. my kids love to color their world and many a broken crayon lay on top of the paper as a testament. my son nicholas isnt interested in form or content when he draws. all he cares about is the color--he names each one as he picks it up in his hand and then scribbles with it so hard it cracks in half. julian is just fascinated by the fact that he can make marks with the weird little sticks in his hand--and he gives the paper a good line and a jab or two before the crayon heads to the destination that every object in a baby's hand usually finds itself: his mouth.

that's why i love watching my kids do what they do. not a single thought of theirs is spent on structure. babies dont have to force things to mean something the way grown-ups do. they take things for what they are. a blue crayon is just that--blue. it doesnt have to be sadness or sky or a bruise or a code. it can just be wild streaks across some torn paper. that's the simplicity and utter openness with which babies approach their world. fascination and captivity results from every curious and foreign object they come across. i love the wonder that only the very young are able to possess--when everything is still new because you're still new. it's too bad that those are the days we don't have the capacity to remember. just imagine how much different people would be if we could all remember our first few years out of the womb.