Otherwise known as coloring books. I despise their very existence.
"Color inside the lines!" I can hear a cranky babysitter shouting.
"Look how pretty Caaaandy's picture is! Sheeee didn't mess up at alllll." I'm sure someone said that.
"No! Hair is not purple. That is hair," Crabby Art Teacher snarls. Her hair, ironically, is purple.
Coloring books epitomize the departure of creativity in children. There is no imagination, no thinking to it. It's so rigid! And it is not art.
Alas, my son loves coloring books. He loves to read them (a silver lining) over and over before applying any marks, but when he has heard the stories so often that he knows them by heart, he sweetly requires the honor of my presence to "color wif" him.
Just like that, I get sucked in. I'm hooked. I find my fingers rolling through his Spongebob lunchbox full of snapped, paperless crayons... searching for just the right mystical shade of pink for fairy shoes until finally settling on the one and finding - aahh, nevermind then, he's already covered that entire page in neon green.
It's good that he doesn't worry about lines. I'm glad. Really, I am. But he made me do this and now I can't see the fairy or anything else on the page because of the green everywhere and I didn't want to color in this book anyhow but I got sucked into it and now I want that darn fairy to be PINK!
So I scowl at the fairy, nonexistent in a lime-ade fog... and remember to replace this book with a tablet of construction paper for next time. Pink construction paper.
***Update/Side-note: It's not the coloring I find offensive, it's the rigidity of coloring BOOKS with prefab pages that leave so little to the imagination. I very much enjoy coloring and such activities with Monsoon. Just to be clear... love Monsoon and artsy stuff, do not love ditto-type "in-the-lines" fluff, even if I do get caught up in it.
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