It was a sunny summer day when Jack's crayon first talked to him.   While most children were outside playing, Jack was inside having an adventure of his own.

"Hello there Jack, how do you do?
I love to play games, could we play one or two?"

"Little orange crayon? Oh what fun, oh what fun!
I would love to play games; will we climb, crawl or run?"

"I'm not much for climbing, I don't run or crawl.
My favorite things are the games where you draw. " 

Jack was so excited to have someone to play with. They played tic-tac-toe, and connect the dots. They drew until they didn't have any paper left.

"Little orange crayon, I think I am bored.
I'm sorry I don't want to draw anymore."

"Jack my new friend, but drawing is fun.
We were just warming up, we have only begun!"

"There's more we can color, come on let's explore. 
We can color your house, the walls and the floor." 

Without a second thought Jack and his little orange crayon colored the bathroom, and drew tracks on the walls. In the dining room Jack drew a picture of his family eating dinner together. Looking over all the pictures, Jack started having second thoughts.

"Little orange crayon, so much fun we have had.
But can you please tell me why I'm feeling so bad?"

"Please Jack don't pout, you have done a good thing.
Your house is so pretty your mother will sing."

"Little orange crayon, just look at this mess.
When my mother comes in she will be in distress."

"Little orange crayon, you are solely to blame.
I don't think my mother will see it the same."

"Jack, my dear friend what can we do?
I'm sorry I made so much trouble for you." 

Jack thought and thought, admitting that he was actually the one to blame, he was truly sorry. Not wanting to get into even more trouble, he figured the best thing he could do was confess. 

"Mother, I'm sorry I did something wrong.
I drew on the floor but I knew all along,
paper's for drawing, not the ceiling or floor,
not the dining room wall, paper-- nothing more." 

What happened next caught Jack totally by surprise. His mother scooped him up into her arms, wiped away his tears, and kissed him on the forehead.

"Jack, my sweet boy I am so proud of you.
Thank you for telling me what you did do."

"I don't like the mess; it is not OK.
But telling me 'sorry' has sure made my day." 

Jack hugged his mother around her neck, so relieved that she still loved him. Jack helped her clean up the crayon marks, but his mother stopped him when he started to scrub the picture on the dining room wall. 

"Though what you did was wrong," she said with a smile,
"This one is special, it should stay for awhile."