It’s the story of a little girl who eats too many cupcakes and turns pink. The cover of the book is, well, pinkalicious.
Three days after he brought the book home, Jayce mentioned in passing that a
big bully boy at his table made fun of him for picking Pinkalicious. Because, you know, it was very pink.
Clearly that boy’s mother has failed to teach him that real men like pink. Either that or he’s been prematurely meaned up.
My biggest fear with kindergarten is that my sweet little snuggly bear will go off and learn precisely the lessons that the big bully is trying to teach: that you have to be someone you’re not to be one of the “cool” kids; that if you step even a little out of the box you’re a freak; that different is somehow lesser than.
My boy is anything but. Let me assure you.
He is the most sensitive of souls. He’s patient and curious. Genuine and forgiving. He sings “Yes Lord, Yes Lord, Yes Yes Lord” like nobody’s business. He listens when we tell him things, and you can see his wheels always turning, trying to do better next time. He sits next to me in the glider rocker in his room–spreading his blanket over both of our laps–and listens intently to E.B. White’s THE TRUMPET OF THE SWAN. And when we’re done, he says, “you can rock me if you wanna.” He eats his vegetables and tells me I look beautiful. He brings in flowers for my hair. He runs and jumps and can’t hardly sit still. While I brush his teeth he signs, “I love you more than you love me.” He goes crazy when his daddy gets home from work, running towards the door and screaming with delight. He licks his ice cream bowl clean.
I really like that boy. Really, really like him.
When Kennedy read him Pinkalicious, she told him that the same author wrote another book: Purplelicious. I know precisely which book is coming home in the backpack this week.
And I love him all the more for it.