I had the delight of meeting a five-year-old last week. We walked hand-in-hand around a snowy island and drank hot chocolate afterwards. We also threw snowballs into the sea.
"Is purple your favorite color?" I asked her, upon seeing the color of her winter boots.
"No, it's my mom's favorite. But it's my funnest color." Funnest color. I didn't know you could have such a thing, but my ignorance surely doesn't preclude its existence. "My favorite color is turquoise." (She was clad in turquoise snow pants.)
We finished our drinks and watched from the large window as some older kids built a snowman outside. The roof continually let go of huge snow chunks that distracted her as they fell to the ground. Suddenly she paid me a compliment, "You're so nice that I think you should have kids, and then I could play with them!"
The outing refreshed me so much that I still smile when I think of her laugh and her exuberance. Plus she gave me something new to ponder: what is my funnest color?
"Is purple your favorite color?" I asked her, upon seeing the color of her winter boots.
"No, it's my mom's favorite. But it's my funnest color." Funnest color. I didn't know you could have such a thing, but my ignorance surely doesn't preclude its existence. "My favorite color is turquoise." (She was clad in turquoise snow pants.)
We finished our drinks and watched from the large window as some older kids built a snowman outside. The roof continually let go of huge snow chunks that distracted her as they fell to the ground. Suddenly she paid me a compliment, "You're so nice that I think you should have kids, and then I could play with them!"
The outing refreshed me so much that I still smile when I think of her laugh and her exuberance. Plus she gave me something new to ponder: what is my funnest color?
