As I write this, a second coat of purple paint is being applied to my house, bright purple and bright teal trim. Those colors are out there, and they will not be denied, or ignored. For the foreseeable future, our street-mates will give directions to visitor based on how near or far their house is from, “the purple house”. It's our house, and we love the color.
Some of our neighbors agree. We've heard that some people always wanted a purple house, and that one neighbor painted her bedroom those exact colors. The neighbor on the other side wanted to know why we didn't go with our second choice and pick orange. Emma and the other little girls on the street love it.
My mother-in-law hates it. She doesn't even have to say the word; hate is clear. She came by just as the first strokes were going on, and she insisted we put on a little of the eggplant-hued paint she had brought for us to consider. Jamie and did consider it, but not for very long. One of the builders stopped in before he left to tell me that he preferred the darker color. Liam finds the bright color mortifying and dreads the day his friends see it.
From the start of this whole extension / renovation project, Liam has said that he wanted to paint his room orange, red and green. With the painters on ladders all around our house, he says it louder. Orange, red, green; nothing else will do.
When we arrived at the paint store yesterday, our boy found quickly found what he wanted. He picked “Orange” and “Dark Lime Green” from the rack so quickly, it was as if he hadn't needed to look for them. He wanted three orange walls, and one green one. He was going to draw his own Manga posters and hang posters of international soccer teams with red shirts and some martial arts pictures too. Colors all picked; could we just go now?
Jamie and I felt our eyes burning when we looked at those colors. They didn't just clashed, they crashed. After Jamie had given up and moved to asking Emma if she really wanted to paint her room dark red and dark purple, I took my seat beside Liam and said everything Jamie had already said.
When I saw the young saleswoman, I begged for her help. Could she show me, please oh please, a bright green and deep orange that could share the same walls? She didn't think so, and neither did the machine she carried into which color numbers could be entered and matched. Maybe if Liam saw the two together in a picture of a room, maybe that would show him the folly of his thoughts. We walked to a computer in the back of the store saying the boy just needed occular proof.
And it worked. They worked, I mean. It looked great. The walls looked like they could stand up to any art that Liam chose. Add the black bean-bag chair Liam wants, and it only gets better. For a kid who draws mainly in black and white, he did a hell of a job picking those colors. If it were up to me, I might replace the dinosaur quilt with something darker, but it's not up to me. The dinos are staying. Less and less of what he chooses has anything to do with me, and I'll just adjust.
Helping Emma pick what she wants for her room might be easier, and it might be tougher. What she sees, she wants. Scooby Doo, Dora the Explorer, they look good when they are right in front of her. This morning, I asked her what she might want in her room, and she gave it a think before saying “dinosaurs”; the favorite things of two of her close buddies. Five minutes later, she wanted animals, and fairies, and flowers, and maybe a dino or two.
Right now, I'm imagining how her room, with its fuzzy lavender bedspread pink comforter and bright green pillow, would looked all groovied up with Peter Max “Yellow Submarine” pictures and big flowers on the walls. If I could show it to her, I bet she'd eat it right up. She'd mix in dinos, kitties too, and a fairy or two. That's the danger, and the delight of Emma, she isn't a one-note kid, no kid really is. She wants to stir it all together. She could test the patience of any interior-designer, but that's my girl.
Some of our neighbors agree. We've heard that some people always wanted a purple house, and that one neighbor painted her bedroom those exact colors. The neighbor on the other side wanted to know why we didn't go with our second choice and pick orange. Emma and the other little girls on the street love it.
My mother-in-law hates it. She doesn't even have to say the word; hate is clear. She came by just as the first strokes were going on, and she insisted we put on a little of the eggplant-hued paint she had brought for us to consider. Jamie and did consider it, but not for very long. One of the builders stopped in before he left to tell me that he preferred the darker color. Liam finds the bright color mortifying and dreads the day his friends see it.
From the start of this whole extension / renovation project, Liam has said that he wanted to paint his room orange, red and green. With the painters on ladders all around our house, he says it louder. Orange, red, green; nothing else will do.
When we arrived at the paint store yesterday, our boy found quickly found what he wanted. He picked “Orange” and “Dark Lime Green” from the rack so quickly, it was as if he hadn't needed to look for them. He wanted three orange walls, and one green one. He was going to draw his own Manga posters and hang posters of international soccer teams with red shirts and some martial arts pictures too. Colors all picked; could we just go now?
Jamie and I felt our eyes burning when we looked at those colors. They didn't just clashed, they crashed. After Jamie had given up and moved to asking Emma if she really wanted to paint her room dark red and dark purple, I took my seat beside Liam and said everything Jamie had already said.
When I saw the young saleswoman, I begged for her help. Could she show me, please oh please, a bright green and deep orange that could share the same walls? She didn't think so, and neither did the machine she carried into which color numbers could be entered and matched. Maybe if Liam saw the two together in a picture of a room, maybe that would show him the folly of his thoughts. We walked to a computer in the back of the store saying the boy just needed occular proof.
And it worked. They worked, I mean. It looked great. The walls looked like they could stand up to any art that Liam chose. Add the black bean-bag chair Liam wants, and it only gets better. For a kid who draws mainly in black and white, he did a hell of a job picking those colors. If it were up to me, I might replace the dinosaur quilt with something darker, but it's not up to me. The dinos are staying. Less and less of what he chooses has anything to do with me, and I'll just adjust.
Helping Emma pick what she wants for her room might be easier, and it might be tougher. What she sees, she wants. Scooby Doo, Dora the Explorer, they look good when they are right in front of her. This morning, I asked her what she might want in her room, and she gave it a think before saying “dinosaurs”; the favorite things of two of her close buddies. Five minutes later, she wanted animals, and fairies, and flowers, and maybe a dino or two.
Right now, I'm imagining how her room, with its fuzzy lavender bedspread pink comforter and bright green pillow, would looked all groovied up with Peter Max “Yellow Submarine” pictures and big flowers on the walls. If I could show it to her, I bet she'd eat it right up. She'd mix in dinos, kitties too, and a fairy or two. That's the danger, and the delight of Emma, she isn't a one-note kid, no kid really is. She wants to stir it all together. She could test the patience of any interior-designer, but that's my girl.
