Yesterday I was blessed with a dining table covered with papers and crayons of variable hues.

All three of my children were sitting at the table creating. Whinnie and Theo were using the block beeswax crayons, Nic had the box of crayolas.

We’ve determined that Whinnie NEEDS naked crayons 😉 Seriously, if she’s given crayons with paper covering, she has to first strip it off, and then color. And, if that’s not enough, she must be naked as well, apparently.

Nic prefers the crayolas simply because there are more colors to choose from. Lately he’s been very interested in Garfield, having found several of the books at the used bookstore. This week he and Chris have been exploring making their own Garfield strips. This has been interesting both to watch his developing drawing skills, and to see the direction that his humor takes…he’s my sardonic 9 year old.

Theo usually prefers the block crayons, I think it’s because of the way they feel in his hand. But I think it’s more about the creamy texture of beeswax crayons than the size or shape. Theo is my most sensory child.

I did take pictures of their design bonanza, and I will cherish these as they get older and have ‘more imporatant’ things to do.

And today, as I type, Whinnie is again sitting at the table with me drawing with the block crayons. Her current interest is balloons, which she draws endlessly. She’s gotten pretty good and circular shapes in the process.

Me? I survey our one-size-must-fit-all apartment living room. I fantasize about having an old farm house with interesting nooks and crannies. I imagine a specific space that is full of magic and wonder and an old wooden case filled with creativity supplies.

But for this moment in time, we have this one room which must serve all our needs. And I must find my way to creating more with them and near them and tolerate (dare I encourage?) the messes when they create with or without me.

hmmmm, they are already divinely-creative…so my job is to facilitate and not frustrate, their desire to express…

amid the growing stack of scribbled masterpieces,