I'm pretty experienced with crayons. Over the years, I've colored with the best of them-the best being in the seven to nine-year-old age range. Eight year olds are at the point where a whole lot of love still goes into each picture they make and yet, they've truly mastered staying in the lines.
This morning, though, I colored with Elizabeth, who just turned three last week. I'd really forgotten what it was like to color with such a newbie.
It went like this: She chose both of our pictures and we began to color. I'd stay in the lines with my 20+ years of experience (not to brag) while she scribbled all over the entire paper. After about one minute, she'd look at my paper and decide she actually wanted mine instead. So, we'd switch. We continued down this path for quite a while, until Elizabeth decided that the papers had been exchanged enough.
It was time to start switching crayons. So, again the cycle began. I'd pick up a blue crayon and she'd pick up a green. After watching me color for a good ten seconds, she'd put the green down and take the blue from me.
I tested the consistency of the process at one point with a black crayon. After she took the original black away from me, I picked up another one.
It was just as I suspected, she took the crayon immediately and put the old black one back on the table.
I'd imagine this game could have entertained her for a long time, however, we were sadly interrupted by sirens and a loud noise hovering overhead.
Elizabeth and I soon discovered that we had front row seats to a high-speed police chase. The chase, involving over ten police officers and a helicopter ended just two streets away from our coloring extravaganza.
As I was sitting there with my crayons, watching the updates on Fox, I realized that this situation epitomizes the difference between boys are girls. Boys would have been running outside watching the cars fly by and the helicopter circle. Elizabeth and I locked the door (just in case) and went back to the crayons. Why would we worry about a car's horsepower when we could color horses?
This morning, though, I colored with Elizabeth, who just turned three last week. I'd really forgotten what it was like to color with such a newbie.
It went like this: She chose both of our pictures and we began to color. I'd stay in the lines with my 20+ years of experience (not to brag) while she scribbled all over the entire paper. After about one minute, she'd look at my paper and decide she actually wanted mine instead. So, we'd switch. We continued down this path for quite a while, until Elizabeth decided that the papers had been exchanged enough.It was time to start switching crayons. So, again the cycle began. I'd pick up a blue crayon and she'd pick up a green. After watching me color for a good ten seconds, she'd put the green down and take the blue from me.
I tested the consistency of the process at one point with a black crayon. After she took the original black away from me, I picked up another one.
It was just as I suspected, she took the crayon immediately and put the old black one back on the table.
I'd imagine this game could have entertained her for a long time, however, we were sadly interrupted by sirens and a loud noise hovering overhead.
Elizabeth and I soon discovered that we had front row seats to a high-speed police chase. The chase, involving over ten police officers and a helicopter ended just two streets away from our coloring extravaganza.
As I was sitting there with my crayons, watching the updates on Fox, I realized that this situation epitomizes the difference between boys are girls. Boys would have been running outside watching the cars fly by and the helicopter circle. Elizabeth and I locked the door (just in case) and went back to the crayons. Why would we worry about a car's horsepower when we could color horses?
