Purple Crayons are People, they’re [i]PEOPLE![/i]

Those of you who know Daschel in person know that he is a hoarder. Crayons, bath poofs, bouncy balls and yes, wampons are some of his favorite items to tote around in his backpack [or fists]. Every couple of weeks, he picks a new favorite thing to carry around. Sure, he gets some looks when we head to the grocery store and he has a pile of loofahs in the cart with him, but it’s not hurting anyone, and he doesn’t need them, so what’s the harm? Soon enough he’ll forget about loofahs and move on to something else.

I remember doing similar things when I was a kid, particularly when it came to my miniature horse collection. As soon as I began riding lessons, I started collecting horses. Everywhere I went, I took two or three of my favorites with me. It was like displaying my most valuable posession at all times … quite invigorating, really. We never really grow out of this, either. Men strut around in their $200 basketball shoes, and women casually set their fake Vuitton bags on counter tops everywhere. We’re proud of our belongings, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Dash is currently attached to a handful of crayons. Far be it for me to complain, it’s not knives and it’s not tampons, so I’m pretty much on cloud nine, unless he breaks one and becomes hysterical because crayons are impossible to fix. My mom thoughtfully suggested melting the crayons back together, but apparently no one told her that I am a) not very good with fire - you’re talking to a woman who set her own hair on fire lighting a cigarette once), and b) pretty lazy when it comes to MELTING CRAYONS BACK TOGETHER. I pray to God that my mom didn’t EVER melt any crayons back together, because it makes me feel like a materialistic child of the 80’s when I simply go to the store and buy a new box of $1.00 crayons.

In all truth, the crayons are my favorite item that he hoards. They’re far less annoying than bouncy balls (which inevitably end up under a couch or in Sophie’s mouth), and less stare-inducing than loofahs or hair curlers (those were last week). He just walks around, showing the crayons to people, and naming the colors that he knows. Every once in a while he’ll set them down and count them, making sure they are all present.

Today I overheard him in his room naming colors. Setting the crayons out on his bed, he pointed at each one, informing it of its nature. “Wink, Beeewww, Ween, Yewwo, People…”

I sat down next to him on the floor and watched as he went through it again - this time with more vigor because he had an audience.

“WINK, BEEEWWWW, WEEEEEN, YEWWO, PEEEEEPLE!”
“People? Purple! It’s purple, right?”
“People.”

Because Dash’s speech has made such progress recently, I don’t harp on him every time he pronounces something wrong, I just let him bask in the afterglow of having expressed himself, no matter how hilarious it sounds. We talked about the crayons a little longer, until he got bored and re-discovered a book that had been under his bed.

Later in the evening, I heard Mike in the kitchen with Dash and the crayons.

“What are these colors, buddy?”
“Wink, People, People, PEOPLE!”
“Yep, those are three purple crayons. How’d you manage to get three purple crayons?”
[Um, we have to buy a new box of crayons almost every day?]
“THREE PEOPLE!”
Mike laughs, obviously thinking the same thing I am. “So, you’re telling me these crayons are people?”
“Yes! People!” Daschel claps, thrilled that someone finally understand what he’s been trying to express to us for days. “CRAYNS ARE PEOPLE! CRAYNS ARE PEOPLE!!”

“All this time I thought it was Soilent Green.”

Lady lady, you keep posting cute stories like this, and I’ll end up knocked up soon.

That is so cute.

Sounds just like when my then ~15 month old daughter and I were discussing Elmo. She loves Elmo, but she calls him Elbow. She knows where her elbow is and will point it out and call it so. Anyway, as we were discussing the furry red one, I casually mentioned that yes, Elmo, was on her shirt. She replied with ‘Elbow!’. ‘Elmo. Elmo,’ I tried again. She gave me this look (I can see the same look now, with an eyeroll, in her teenage years), said ‘Elmo,’ and then pointed to her shirt and said, ‘Elbow!’ It’s like she was saying, sheesh, Mommy, I can say Elmo just fine, but his name is Elbow! Heh.

that is so cute, I remember dragging the horses and you also had a “strawberry shortcake” fetish for awhile (until you got mad them and cut all their hair off) and then they just weren’t presentable to go out in public…..your brother had his”He-Men” he took everywhere and your sister , well I actually can’t think of anything she carried around, she didn’t have to, she had you and Timmie.
(and sorry to tell you but with you anyway, I have melted a couple of crayons together) but then when I only had you, I also pureed my own fresh baby food and used cloth diapers and various other insane “first time” mother stuff that you do. By the time Tim came forget the cloth diapers (what a pain in the —, haha) and no time to puree anything….and by the time Hailey came around Mr. Gerber and I were best friends (not to mention kraft mac and cheese (in the blue box)