When I Was Little
When I was little, I had no patience for coloring.
I mean what was I going to do with the picture when I was done? It certainly wasn't good enough to be hung on a wall. And if no one was going to see it but me, what difference did it make whether I took time to color nicely or just scribbled on the page? And if it didn't matter if I scribbled, why do it at all?
But now, just so you know, there is a newly colored Barbara Manatee next to a completely uncolored Larry the Cucumber, and no one is going to see it, and I didn't scribble. (Or atleast not very much.)
If you're nice, I might share my crayons with you.
I mean what was I going to do with the picture when I was done? It certainly wasn't good enough to be hung on a wall. And if no one was going to see it but me, what difference did it make whether I took time to color nicely or just scribbled on the page? And if it didn't matter if I scribbled, why do it at all?
But now, just so you know, there is a newly colored Barbara Manatee next to a completely uncolored Larry the Cucumber, and no one is going to see it, and I didn't scribble. (Or atleast not very much.)
If you're nice, I might share my crayons with you.
Comments
I have a secret affinity for crayons and coloring pages, too. But don't tell anyone.
I like the image I have of you and Gabe giggling over the posts here. =)