My daughter has a bit of an obsession with pink. I’m not really sure where it came from, but it’s hands down, her most favourite colour.
She will wear other colours, but she usually has something pink in the pattern of her shirt or an accessory in a bag or hair clip or pink beads.
She thinks it’s high time we repainted her room — and what does she want? Three shades of pink.
I have a nagging feeling that two years after I paint her room, she’ll not like the colour any more. I’ve told her, however, that if I do paint her room, she’s on a five-year commitment. That’s just what she wants, she tells me, and then asks me if we can also paint her furniture pink.
I remember not being a big pink fan myself when growing up — might have been the fact that my girliness was slightly stifled by my three younger, always muddy, brothers.
Oh, I liked my Barbies and my She-Ra Castle — although at the time I wondered why it was pink. It was a plastic mountain that opened up with two shelves — all pink. Apparently She-Ra lived sparsely and loved her pink, just not furniture.
Then as a teenager, I went through an anti-colour phase, not wearing anything that wasn’t black or white.
But my monkey likes her pink — light pink, dark pink, fuchsia, rose pink, baby pink. She only wears other colours because I buy them for her.
But I’ve pretty much learned my lesson on that one. I buy pink, or I take her with me and try to talk her into buying a T-shirt of another colour. Even her kilt for Highland dancing is pink tartan with a deeper shade of pink for her vest. She refused to wear any other colour tartan.
Her love of pink has gotten her into trouble a time or two. She sulked her way through a second cousin’s wedding last year because her dress was yellow with white polka dots. She wanted pink.
I photographed the wedding for my husband’s cousin and in every single picture my monkey has a gigantic pout on her face.
Just this past weekend we took her to Build-A-Bear for a treat and she immediately picked out a pink bunny to stuff with a pink ballerina dress and matching pink slippers. She didn’t even glance at the scads of other stuffed friends and outfits.
The same afternoon we went to Tinker Town and many, many times she welled up with giant crocodile tears when she didn’t get the pink helicopter/fish/boat, etc.
She made one other dad feel so bad about his daughter sitting in the in the pink whale on one particular ride that the site of my daughter’s tears and enormous pout that he picked his daughter out of the pink one and put her in a different coloured whale.
While my daughter was quite happy, the other little girl wasn’t (the dad assured me, though, that his daughter has already ridden in the pink whale three times) and I was not happy that my daughter got her way through crying about it.
We had a little talk with her about sharing, not crying to get our own way and liking other colours, but I imagine it’s a conversation we’ll be having with her over and over again before it sinks in.
Then she’ll be onto black, I suppose!
Kyla Henderson is a local freelance journalist, business owner and mommy. Her column runs every week in the Community News.
Republished from the Brandon Sun print edition July 19, 2012