As you can see we're running out of good topics to write upon. Suggestions welcome.
I have this distinct memory of being quite little, and sticking my crayons through the bars of a window fan, so there would be shavings that dropped to the window sill. I think I ate them sometimes, too. My mother would tell me I'm having pipe dreams to think such a thing, but I remember.
There was nothing better than getting the big box of 64 crayons. Blue violet and red violet, yellow green, silver and gold. These were meant for more than coloring books--these were meant for drawing your own pictures.
Sometimes I'd color a page with lots of different color, and then top it with black. Afterwars, taking a bobby-pin, I'd scrap the black of in various designs, revealing the color below. That was a favorite thing to do.
Today I share coloring with my great nephew, whose favorite color is brown.
I should buy a box of 64, and play with it myself.