RIP Lemon Marker

I love stationary.
Pens, pencils, erasers, crayons, markers. And the accessories, such as stamps, stickers, fancy scissors and tape.
I can't draw very well, I stick to shading items to make my chicken scratch a piece of artwork. I normally draw flowers and foo-foo things.

I do this activity with my daughter, now 3. I buy her markers (and crayons which are all broken BTW) and half go missing and the yellow and orange markers turn black because she colours them over darker coloured inks. I cannot stand this. So I bought myself some wonderful scented markers that have yummy smells you could eat.

I do not share my markers because of her history of carelessness. Granted she is three, but she's got her own stuff she can ruin.

"Mommy I want a marker"
"No."
"Please, you have to share."
"No, you will break them."
"No I won't."
"Here use your crayons instead."
"I need a marker to make it pretty."
"FUUUUUUUCK" I think to myself, "What colour do you need?"
"Lellow." (that's yellow for us grown-ups)
"I will give this holy grail of markers, you must be gentle, if not, I will pick you up by your toes and swing you around the room until you become so dizzy you puke, and because of the velocity you will end up painting the walls with a new shade of brown. Which you will have to clean up with a toothbrush."
Actually I didn't say that, it was more like:
"If I give you this, you must be gentle, otherwise I will take it away from you."
"Ok." she said gleefully, she then proceeds to smash the marker in a stabbing motion on the table.
SMASH SMASH SMASH, then a little scribble. "was she done?" I thought..........hell no
smash! smash! smash!
"Holy mother Mary of god. What the fuck, my fucking marker. Holy shit-fuck. With an over flowing bucket of fuck"



My own flesh and blood smashed the head of a marker with such pleasure and gleefulness I thought I saw a hint of serial killer in her. She would do it again, and again. Until the population of Mr. Sketch Smelly markers were extinct. The black one would be burned. Mr Cherry Red would be flushed down the toilet, like it was a dirty vile tampon. Forest Green would be appropriately buried in the woods and a golden retriever would find it 2 weeks later full of maggots and worms. This child's hunger for slaughtering markers wouldn't be satiated until the clan family of Sketch markers were gone. All of them. She would demand trips to Wal-mart to get more markers, so she could be sure that Mr. Sketch would never make beautifully scented flowers again.

"Woah woah woah." I said, "what are you doing."
"Making dots"
"No, look what you did, its broken." I stuck the marker up to her nose, The poor marker was slaughtered into what resembled a broom. It was no longer nice and pointy, but merely reduced to a man's bushy yellow nicotined stained moustache.


"You cannot use my markers." I said annoyed. "You will have to use your crayons."

My beloved yellow marker is now a terrible smooshed piece of garbage. Its like trying to write with a piece of wool. RIP my beautiful lemon scented marker. I cried, then buried it in the backyard next to my bunny that died on Easter Weekend. I hope that rotting bunny knows how to make lemonade.