This might have been when I arrived at the age of Pick-Up-Sticks. Remember those? A brightly colored tall can held a few dozen fat tooth-pick like sticks, except they were very long sticks, a fat group that easily filled a child's hand.  They used to be wood sticks, but now they are made of plastic. We always played on the floor, standing tall with raised hand to dump them out. Starting as a group they'd fall into immediate chaos, most landing in a zig-zag pile, others laying singly. Then, carefully, we'd try our "skill" at using one stick to ever slowly, so slowly, move another stick out away from the others, but without moving anything else! We'd hold our breath, so air wouldn't make others "accidentally" move. And when they did, as most times they would, the player would even yell "that was an accident!" The truth was though, it was next to impossible to NOT have another stick move, stuck in that imbroglio as they were! But, how could we kids know that fact! No, the "game" became an obsession, trying with all our might to now make these items NOT move, or at least make them move HOW we wanted them to move (while NOT moving any others!). It wasn't an accident that we couldn't do it; the obsession to try was because we couldn't make those damn sticks do what we wanted. And because we couldn't win! 

Pick-Up-Sticks is like the old game "House of Cards". But, I think the card name is more HONEST! You know by the name what will win! You already KNOW that the cards WILL move, no matter how steady you make your hand or how you brace it. The house WILL sway when only one-story high, it WILL fall no matter how hard you held your breath! It WON'T be a sturdy house, it WON'T let you add new "rooms" or "floors", and it WON'T be any different when it falls than those fake-flakes on Santa's shoulders, the silvery-beads to fill eyes, or the jumbled mess of Pick-Up-Sticks after falling from a 3 foot tall person.

I think the deception-becoming-obsession of these "games" is why I always liked my small box of crayons the best. You knew where you stood with crayons. You knew all the greenish colors would be grouped with greens, all the pink shades with pinks next door to all the reddish ones lined up with only reds. The blues lived with blues, and whether bright or dull you'd find all the yellows together. And oranges were always next to the yellow group. There were only those very few that didn't seem to have a true "home" in there (at least in my understanding), those being gold, silver, and white. But their places always seemed quite moveable, without any skill needed, no hours spent in "trying" to get them into a certain spot, no obsession to take over either. You knew you could dump the whole box on the floor, but not have any trouble putting them back in their groups, too. You knew crayons looked better unused and with their wrappers left un-torn. You knew if you decided to taste one (one you didn't use much), that crayons would always taste like wax. You knew they'd break if you stepped or sat on them. You knew they always "worked right" whether it was a sunny or rainy day, and without one second of ever having to hold your breath! 

After the year I've had this year, I need a box of trusty crayons. No more snow globes with fake-flecks, no more silver-bead faces from 5-cent gum ball machines. No more Pick-Up-Sticks that have pointy sharp ends that hurt! And no more "House of Cards" that WILL fall. I just want to sprawl on the floor on my belly with a big blank sheet where MY creation will begin with one small crayon, building, stretching across the paper in whatever direction I want. I need a box of crayons!