Today, while preparing Emmett for his morning nap, I began to unbutton his p.j.'s and noticed a strange yellowing along his feet and up his legs. It was too bright and dry to be diaper leakage. Puzzled, I followed the trail of yellow up his body and noticed a similar coloring to his hands. Then, alarmed, I saw the same sunshine yellow encircling his mouth. Frantic, having no idea what kind of brightly-hued substance he could have obtained for swallowing, I finally saw a tiny chunk of this pervasive color attached to his tiny bottom tooth. A crayon!
I dashed to the living room to be sure part of the offending coloring utensil had survived and was not, at that moment, festering in my son's belly. Relieved, I noted a small round crayon laying innocently on the floor, torn and chewed wrapper resting nearby. I confirmed with my daughter that this, in fact, had been what her brother had been chewing, then I plopped him in the bath to de-colorize him, and put him down for his nap.
Hours later, Micaiah sat happily on the living room floor scrawling with her markers - her medium of choice lately. I briefly registered that her quick-moving brother should not be so close by, but dismissed the thought. Until I noticed a little boy quickly squirming toward, of course, the only uncapped marker sitting next to his sister. Just before I got my hand to his wrist, the blue tip went straight in his mouth, leaving a beautiful streak of color along his tongue and lips. Fortunately, he had been sucking on the "world's most washable marker" (and it is - Crayola Pipsqueaks - highly recommended!).
However, before washing, I decided to document this little boys escapades. And as I flashed the photo, I noticed, once again, the tell-tale signs of yellow smudging my son's chin.
How could I NOT have picked up the crayon?!
Apparently this boy has creative impulses he just has to get out. And, as his mommy, I, sadly, have to stifle them. At least until he stops trying to eat the media, rather than apply it to paper. Sorry, buddy.