I have always contended that there are only two types of boys: ball boys and car boys. Mine is a ball boy. It became obvious from the time he could track movement that balls held all his fascination. When he was two he would make me stop in front of the basketball courts to watch the players, crying if I wanted to move on. Cars never held his fancy for too long. He did spend some time racing them down the ouija board but that was only because there wasn't enough space to play too long with a ball before getting yelled at.
I have come to realize though that there is a second kind of child. Crayons vs. markers. I was always a crayon kid. I would color with them, savor them, blend them, compare their luminosity, cover drawings with black and scratch it off to make interesting patterns, and basically kept my box of Crayolas in a special spot like the coveted treasure that they were.
My son, however, has always been a marker boy. He still has a box of Crayolas that are verily untouched. Any use of them was probably by me. However when it came to markers, he could spend hours drawing. If there was a choice, he wouldn't bother with crayons and prefer to move on to something else like bead-stringing instead of drawing. But if there were markers, he was in.
Now that he's 13, he has discovered BIG markers. The kind that are steeped in color, juicy with flavor and lusciously radiant. They are the kind used for graffiti. I suspect that very soon I will be getting a call from the police and will have my first encounter with a bail bondsman. Growing up is so fun.