Tuesday, March 2, 2010

So, Are Pink Cowboys More Polite?

It's happening. It's the time of year that if you squeeze your eyes a bit and gaze at the trees real hard, there is an aura of green hanging around the branches. The leaves aren't really uncurling yet. Just the promise. And the green tint that fills the space around the craggly limbs.

Note: If you do not live in the Garden of Eden, this phenomenon may not occur until later in the year. Much later.

Note: If you are one of those readers still living in WINTER, my head is hanging in pity for you. But I am grinning while my head is lowered Neener-neener-neener!

I am remembering a favorite spring day long, long ago. I am sitting at the table with five year-old Son and two-year old Daughter. We are coloring a picture. For Daddy. Who is at work. Son is swirling the colored markers in lazy circles, admiring each hue. Admiring and chattering. See all the colors, Mom? See? Mom, are you looking at me when I'm talking?

I look and nod and smile. Daughter is holding a marker in her fist. She is 'drawling a cowboy'. Daughter always 'drawls' cowboys. And she wears white cowboy boots. Everyday. She falls asleep in the boots and I sneak in to remove them. I am afraid that one day, the boots won't come off and she'll end up wearing those doggone things to her Senior Prom.

Mom! What's your favorite color, Mom? Son is looking up at me through his long dark lashes. Why do boys always get the eyelashes? I wonder. Probably something to do with that wacky Y chromosome.

Pink, I say.

Daughter is crying. She gets a little crease above her lip when she cries. Pink is my favorite, she moans. In utter devastation.

We can share, I suggest.

She stares at me. Hard. It's mine.

Son interrupts. See this marker? It's my favorite.

He is swirling a green marker.

But see, it's not a dark green. It's a po-lite green.

This kid is a genius, I think. I realize that he means 'light' green, but 'polite green' is a much better description of the green that hovers around a tree on a warm spring day or waves in the new grasses on the hillside.

Daughter's little lip is creasing again. I want polite green too! It's mine!

I smile. At the thought of a pink and polite green cowboy.

Happy Spring!

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