This morning, my grandsons William and Alexander asked me to color with them.
Easy? Probably. If you’re not old. vieja. vieille. Like me.
The boys each had a coloring book with a fall theme. Pumpkins. Leaves. Rakes and the like. I picked up one bright crayon and said, “I think I’ll color some of the leaves red.”
William inspected the crayon in my hand. He then announced, “Grandma, that isn’t exactly red.”
“Hmmmmm,” I thought to myself… “I think I know what red is.” I twirled the crayon in my hand. Confidently, I may add. Then I saw the words: violet red. rojo violeta. rouge-violet. OK. Maybe the crayon wasn’t exactly red after all.
And the orange for the pumpkins wasn’t exactly orange. It was: yellow orange. amarillo naranja. jaune-orange. The yellow for some more leaves was: dandelion. diente de leon. pissenlit.
The green for the vines wasn’t just greeen. No. It was: green. verde. vert.
And the blue for the rake? First, I was told by Alexander that rakes are never blue. And anyway… where did blue indi-go?
OK. I have to go there. When I was a kid… crayons came in a box of 8: red, blue, yellow, orange, green, black, violet, white. Or something like that. When I was a kid… getting a new box of Crayola Crayons was birthday and Santa-worthy. When I was a kid… those 8 crayons were magical little drawing machines that fueled our imaginations and heightened our creativity. I still remember using the crayons and then placing them ever-so-gently back into that box for the next visit. And that box of 8 lasted for a very long time.
I will admit that the multiple colors and translations are pretty cool. And it is amazing that a 3 and 4-year old recognize nuances of color. I love that.
But it is just another sign that life is no longer simple. 8 has been replaced. And you know what I have to say about that? Color my world. Color it, well… bonita!