When we moved here I warned the kids not to leave things in the car. On a days like this weekend, when the temperature reaches to 104 degrees it is deadly. Quite literally. It can get up to 160 degrees in a locked up car on a very hot day.
On days like this hot Cd's bubble, Chapstick liquefies, and toys melt.
I had warned my children. I tried to make them understand.
On Saturday afternoon, between the mess that we encountered and the enormous fit I threw, I think they got the picture.
Honestly, it was just a matter of time.
Saturday we met my Mom, Dad and Great Grandma for lunch. The kids each ordered from the kid menus which came with 4 brand new Crayola crayons.
Yes, you know where this is going. But today we are going to call this blog "therapy", so stick with me.
After lunch we headed over to my parents for some swimming. We stayed and played for about three hours.
It was time to go and I unlocked and opened the sliding van door. The smell is what hit me first. A strange warm, waxy smell, that took me back to my first days of school. My eyes, protected behind a dark pair of sunglasses couldn't adjust, so I took off my shades. Laying in The Girls seat, in beautiful primary colors, were three very melted crayons; the colors spread out in brilliant fashion, with a ring of melted wax expanded beyond the color and embedded in the fabric like oil. The long paper that once wrapped around it's color-y goodness, now oil-soaked but empty.
As you can imagine this didn't go over well.
I tried to clean it up, but in my attempt to wipe up the waxy mess with a damp, chlorinated towel I managed to make it ten times worse.
It reminded me of when I was a kid playing with a thermometer. I had dropped it on the carpet and it broke. I tried like crazy to wipe up the silvery mess that had oozed from the glass, but the more I rubbed it the more it kept multiplying and going deeper into the carpet. Much later, as in a just few years ago, I realized this was an old thermometer filled with mercury. I remembered that panicky feeling of wondering how in the world I was going to to tell my parents, but then all that silvery stuff disappeared and all I had left was pieces of glass. With the evidence underneath the carpet and the glass to simply throw away, I don't think I ever told them that I'd broke it.
I was kind of hoping the same would happen with these crayons. That somehow all my moping with the towel would make the red, yellow and blue colors fade away, and the oily mess would disappear. Only it didn't turn out that way.
The problem was that I knew there had to be 5 more crayons. The Girl's last crayon was on the floor. This crayon was also completely melted, but because it wasn't in the direct sunlight it had kept it's familiar long, skinny shape. Instead of finding some careful way to pick it up that might catch the drips, in frustration I impetuously picked it up with my fingers, pouring green wax all over the floor board and managing to get it all over my hands.
In the end, I covered the seat with the towel, ordered the kids to avoid stepping on the waxy build up on the floor, and we were on our way. Fuming and crabby, but on our way. The kids silent in the back, afraid to say anything that might make it worse for them.
I was irritated with myself for acting irrationally, as well as with the whole problem I had, I looked at The Boy and inquired (as calmly as I could) as to the whereabouts of his remaining four crayons. To which he replied, "Oh! My Crayons are safe in the magazine pocket" (on the back of the passenger seat) and he reached in the pocket to pull out the proof, but instead pulled out fingers covered in color.
Oh! it was a mess.
It's been a couple of days and I have managed to clean up as much as I think is possible.
The funny things is that I knew this day would come. I knew that eventually we would learn this lesson the hard way. We always do.
I did actually laugh when I was looking up the Crayola sight for ways to clean melted crayon. There was an ad on their site about Mixing Mediums. They have developed paint that have different items mixed in to give the tempura texture and sparkle.
I wish I had had the presence of mind to have taken a picture. I could have sent it in with this caption:
The hot sun, eight crayons and your mini-van.
(Oh yeah, and one irate Mom.)