I feel like a bad mother.
This is not because I’ve been known to yell at my kids, on occasion. Or because I let them watch a lot more TV than they should. Or how they sometimes eat doughnuts for breakfast and drink chocolate milk all day long. These are valid, tangible reasons, but they’re not the reason.
No. I feel like a bad mother because I don’t let my kids play with crayons.
Sure, they have a shoebox box full of broken rainbow-colored crayolas. Placed high out of their reach. The paper coating on most has been ripped off ages ago. There’s even chalk and colored pencils mixed within. In other words, I’ve tried. When Jedi was younger, I even let him draw masterpieces on our painted walls. Because the crayons, they’re washable! Look, they wash right off! Well, no, they didn’t. Not really. And now Buzz just tries to eat them and Abby thinks they’re lollipops and I find tiny multi-hued shards scattered all over our floor. Not to mention the fight that erupts because I want that color! Those are mine!
So crayons are a very special occasion type of thing. Usually when we’re not at home. They’re simply too much hassle otherwise.
This past weekend, when we sat down at a table with other kids to color in pumpkins, my boys looked around bewildered. Many of the other, younger children were showcasing their mad coloring skillz by drawing faces within the lines while Jedi wasn’t sure where to start and Buzz just wanted to collect as many crayons as possible. I felt like a mean, horrible parent, depriving my kids of one of life’s simple pleasures. My 5 year old, he doesn’t even know how to color!, I thought, and it’s all my fault! Then, I came to my senses. I’m sure my kid could beat your kid at video games, though.