January 24, 2009
This morning there was a big fiasco involving about 312 crayons, one basket and one toddler who made the erroneous assumption that he is really hilarious. He's not. Well, he wasn't this morning at 5:30 a.m. when I was on my belly on the floor trying to sweep the crayons out from under the coffee table with him jumping on my back like a rodeo star and yelling, "WEEE HOOOOOO!"
We have a very large basket of crayons, most of them broken, that was sitting on the floor from last night's art session. While Tristan was running around this morning he kicked the basket over and crayons went flying everywhere. To his 2 year old brain, with it's erratically firing neurons, this must have looked similar to a great 4th of July fireworks show or maybe free margarita night and a ringing slot machine in Vegas. I surmise this because his eyes immediately lit up and he tried to reproduce the incident by then kicking the basket and piles of crayons all around like a riverdancer on crack. By the time I could get over there to stop him, all 312 crayons were spread in about a five foot blast radius around him, many of which ended up under the couch and the coffee table.
But back to me on my belly...
While I was down there trying to get all the crayons back in the basket, I breathed deep the smell of wax and dye and it immediately zapped me back many decades to a dim and dusty garage in Hawaii. Two little girls sat huddled together with a box of crayons and a crayon sharpener. We sat there for hours whittling crayons into a milk carton, presumably to make a candle out of it, but I don't remember ever actually finishing it. I don't even remember my little friend's name, I only remember that smell and sitting in that dim garage one afternoon feeling happy and productive.
What smells transport you to another time and place?
[photo: Darren Hester]