The Innocence Inside a Box of Crayons

When I was younger I remember the excitement of opening a brand new box of crayons and pressing a freshly sharpened stick of pigmented wax to a piece of paper to create a masterpiece that was fitting to my imagination. I have watched that same anticipation in my daughter with a new box of crayons since I trusted her to color on paper and not the walls. And every year since being old enough to go to school, we go shopping for supplies and I watch her as she eagerly chooses a fresh box of crayons to bring to her new classroom. This year in particular she chose with greater intent because “Mama the pink is brighter in this box.” Details.

So we purchased the rest of the supplies on the list and then went home and boxed everything up in her brand new rainbow colored, Dalmatian pencil box that came with a lock and key. Another exciting moment in her life as she placed everything neatly in that little metal box and tucked it away along with all of the other school supplies in her new backpack. As I watched her that day I wondered how much longer I would have these innocent moments with her. I wondered how much longer she would beam with pride when opening that new box of crayons and prudently choose each crayon as each serves its own purpose in bringing her picture to life. Surely, this being her last year in elementary school, it will be the last year that a box of crayons will be seen on her school supply list. Next year will be an entirely different school, different faces and just another milestone to add to the already growing list. Those crayons have not only played a significant role in developing and expanding her creativity, but they have also abetted in reserving her innocence. It’s an innocence that I have watched slowly fade as she now declines my hugs before we depart in the school hallway every morning.

My not so little girl survived her first week of third grade, just as I knew she would, however I’m still trying to recover from the fact that time is moving entirely way too fast for me and I now have a third grader. As much as I try to preserve her innocence, I have observed her maturity and desire to branch out lately. I see it when she lets go of my hand while we walk side by side and again when she chooses time with her friends over time spent with me. There was a moment while we were on vacation recently where I had to compose myself and keep the tears from falling after we entered into an elevator and she didn’t request to push the button like usual. I reflected back on the days when pushing that button was such an accomplishment for her. Her face radiated with triumph after figuring out which was the correct number to push and she was fascinated with how such a thing could transport us to different levels in a building. It’s moments like that that I have taken for granted for all of these years. And now that they are gone, I realize how significant those moments were in substantiating her innocence.

The night before the big day, I laid in bed with her and begged her to stop growing; to stay right where she is so that I could enjoy her being my little girl forever. “But Mama, if I stay little forever you won’t get to keep watching me grow up and do great stuff.”  She is wise beyond her years. I am certain that the days that she will allow me to choose her outfit the night before the first day of school are gone. The days that she’d allow me to hold her hand on the way in to the once big and terrifying building that held new faces are few and far between. And gone are the days that she’d dare to let me kiss her goodbye in front of all the now familiar faces that she looks forward to seeing each day. Time is flying and my baby is changing. The few things I do have left that attest to her innocence will also dwindle and become valued memories. But for now, we still have movie snuggles and goodnight kisses. We still have the nights that she will call to us from her bed asking if she can sleep in our bed. We still have the echoes of animal sounds coming from the playroom as she plays with her farm set that she insisted on buying from a yard sale. We still have coloring books and indubitably, we still have crayons.