On Colours:Posted: March 27, 2008
Last night, my brother and I were sprawling on the floor of my bedroom, sorting through small squares of brightly coloured paper. We were feeling artistic.
He held two colours up for my approval: a nice bright pink, and a very dark pinkish crimson – too dark for pink, but too pink for red; it’s one of my favourite colours (which must of course be because I’m a woman, and therefore used to the look of blood-coloured things).
I told him I thought they were good choices, and his earnest and heartfelt opinion was:
“I like pink too. I can like pink – it’s just a colour – and if any of the boys laughed, I would just tell them that they were silly and it’s a nice colour.”
He got a double high-five for being a very cool brother.
For a boy of six and a half (he’d be very cross if I missed out the half!), who is, like any child of that age, easily influenced by peer pressure, I think he’s bloody brilliant.
But of course he would be – he’s my brother!