I never used to like purple. It was always way too girly for me.
When my older son was little, he insisted (much to his father’s chagrin) that his favorite color was purple. My son was about 3 years old when we bought our house. We asked him what color he wanted to paint his room, and he said, “Purple.” His dad threw a fit.
We asked this question again and again, and always the answer remained the same. We eventually painted the poor kid’s bedroom Buzz Lightyear Blue. He was happy enough with the new color, but once in a while, he would confess to me that he really wished it was purple.
Although my son eventually outgrew his purple fetish, the color had begun to grow on me. The fact that my brave little boy could stand up to his dad and keep asking for purple knowing that it would only get him in trouble was a symbol of hope for me. My son had a voice of his own, and he was not afraid to use it. (more…)