Color Wheel

Lately Mountain Child has been unnaturally preoccupied with color. Couple this development with the fact that she is nearly three and absolutely must have everything exactly the way that she envisions it and we have a real problem on her hands.

“What would you like for breakfast?” (Yes. I know. I should never ask a two year old a question that is so open-ended. But it’s 7 a.m., for God’s sake.)

“I WANT CANDY.”

“You can’t have candy. How about some cereal and milk?”

“NOOOOOOOO. WANT CANDY!”

I sigh heavily. “You may have cereal and milk or an egg. Or both. “

“WANT TOAST! “

“Okay, fine. Toast. I’ll put some peanut butter and honey on it. Maybe some raisins or banana…” (I am now retreating into a fantasy world where I am Top Chef and my child eagerly eats whatever concoction I give her.)

“NOOOOO. WANT JELLY!! JELLY!!!!! NO HONEY!!!! NO BANANA!!!!!!!!!!!”

It is now 7:05 a.m. And I am already wondering if it isn’t too early for a nap for the both of us. I compromise: she gets a bit of jelly on her toast and I smoosh up the banana so that she won’t really notice that I am trying to subject her to proper nutrition. She takes one look at my breakfast offering and pushes it away. “WANT ORANGE JELLY,” she demands.

“But you always like the purple jelly.”

“NOOOOOOOOO!!! ORANGE JELLY!!! WANT ORANGE JELLY! AND BANANA! PINK BANANA!”

“You want a pink banana? “

YES!!!!!!!!!!! She is getting frustrated at me—I have clearly missed the boat on how to properly feed a child. But there are no pink bananas that exist as far as I know. So I tell her so. She weeps bitterly at this fact as if I had just informed that there would be no Christmas this year. She keeps on calling out for the pink banana and now my headache that was just a little pinprick at my temples is a thumping drum. I decide to change the subject.

“Today we are going to go to the museum.”

She stops crying and is now almost placated. “ZOO?”

“No, the museum.”

“RIDE IN THE PURPLE CAR?”

We, of course, do not have a purple car. But she has decided that she has to order the colors of things all day. She has known and enjoyed learning colors very much, so it is little wonder that her days lately have been revolving around the color wheel. Her snacks must be orange or pink—unless it is cheese, which in that case it must be white although sometimes she asks for pink cheese. She wants her toes to be red. She wants my toes to be red. And there absolutely, must be at all times some form of pink in her clothes. Her towel that she dries off with at night has to be green. The list goes on and on. Unfortunately, many of the things that she wants to be specific color are impossible. And Mountain Child is therefore enraged at this injustice.

Somehow, by the grace of the Lord God Almighty, we get to the museum, and her obsession with specific colors is forgotten for the moment. Until, that is, we go to eat lunch.

We had chosen to visit the museum on a day that there was an elementary school visiting as well. So when we get to the café area, there are hoards of kids swarming around. Mountain Child is so interested in the crowds that she barely notices her lunch at all, which I suppose I should be thankful for, given her current color needs.

Now, I haven’t been around a lot of school-aged kids for a while. I used to work at a school, but now I just tutor a few. I rarely see them in huge groups like this. One thing that I noticed about many of these kids is that there seemed to be a fashion motif—if you can call it that—of camouflage. It is everywhere: in their shirts, jackets, pants, and even shoes. One of the little girls even had a little camo-patterned purse. I am bewildered. Have I stumbled upon a convention for young hunters of America? No, I am just in West Virginia.

Speaking of which, I went the other day to this little children’s boutique that I liked in town. I noticed that they had these poufy princess-type skirts that had a camouflage print. They also had hairbows of the same. And in the local Rite-Aid, they had on display some camouflage nighties—a little camisole and shorts. That’s right. Lingerie in the Rite-Aid. I really, really want to know who that person is who happens upon that little ensemble and decides that this is the PERFECT Valentine’s Day outfit for the honey. But I digress.

Mountain Child, points to a kid near me and says, “WHAT’S THAT?” I say, “It’s a kid, sweetie.” She stares at the kid again and says, pointing, “GREEN!” Oh, she is playing the color game again. “Well, that color isn’t really green…it’s camouflage.”

“CAMFLAZ”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Oh, great. Now she has another color to demand. I am going to have to find a camouflage banana, pronto. This is a section of the color wheel that I wasn’t really anticipating. But West Virginia in hunting season has opened my eyes to something new.