Dear Pink,
We've gotten to know each other pretty well over the past year, so I think I can be candid. You know I don't love you, but you also know that my daughter does, and that every day her love for you grows stronger and darker and, well, pinker. I don't hate you, Pink (and I still infinitely prefer you over your loathsome cousin Lilac), but I do feel that since you live in my house -- notably in the clothes, shoes, duvet cover, toothbrush, and on and on, of my kid -- I have a right to get peppery with you when you threaten to take over completely.
And yes, lately you've gone beyond the pale, quite literally. Mornings are murderous in our house now because Crabkid will only wear a particular dress, which is often dirty because it is the exact right shade of pink, and yes, there are many other pink items in her wardrobe but, you know, not always the absolute right tone for my girl. And every time Crabkid walks past a rosebush or fuchsia in your shade, it's not enough just to admire your pinkness, Pink -- she tries to snap all the flower heads off so she can own your beauty in her hot little fist.
You even disrupt our grocery shopping: I have to have extremely firm conversations about you when Crabkid bursts into tears at Trader Joe's on being handed a lovely freebie balloon at checkout. Why is she crying? Because that balloon cannot always be pink. Sometimes there's only green left. Green: a lovely color, the color of grass, grapes, leaves, and the water in our very favorite lake, but whatever, I guess green is no match for you.
Something I still don't get: why are you so insanely popular with little girls? How is it that while a little girl might start off with, say, orange as her favorite, she always defaults to pink in the end? How do you do pull that off? Yeah, yeah, I get that lots of sweet and pretty things in the world are pink: cotton candy, marshmallows, bunny noses, piglets. But you also color some bad stuff: parking tickets, measles, sunburn, Pepto Bismol, ear infections, and baboons' butts. Scientists think they've cracked the allure of Pink: your popularity with the girls supposedly has something to do with ripe fruit and evolution. In the ancient days, ladies had to keep an eye out for nice-looking berries and pinky plums and stuff, while the men were out hunting. Or something. I still don't really get it.
What I'm trying to say, Pink, is that you're not the only color on the wheel with something to offer. Red is the color of Elmo, ladybugs, strawberries, the best flavor of Fruit Rollup, and Valentine's hearts, all of which Crabkid adores. And orange is the color of her dad's yoga mat, and she loves that yoga mat, and orange is also the color of the big fat koi at the Japanese gardens, and we love those guys, and orange means tangerines, which are one of Crabkid's favorite fruits, and the orange marker in her art box is that super-duper delicious parking-cone shade of orange that really makes the rainbow fabulous, and it isn't all dried up and feeble like the pink marker in the box, yet Crabkid still goes for you every time, Pink. Oh, Orange, I miss those days when you reigned briefly but seriously in our house! Crabkid, I know you had to move on and assert yourself and all, but what's wrong with turquoise? How seriously fancy is turquoise? Even Tinkerbell has a turquoise dress, doesn't she? Or maybe it's more greenish. The point is, it's not pink.
Soon Major Pinkness will be taking over my daughter's bedroom walls because, somehow -- in a silly moment of fairness -- Crabmommy agreed to allow Crabkid to choose a paint color for her room. The problem is I'm unable to sway Crabkid toward a shyer, more tasteful version of you, Pink. What she wants are, specifically, dark-pink walls: a shade that makes me think of the dressing chamber of a teen starlet, like Hannah Montana, or the boudoirs of those girls who live with Hugh Hefner. In other words, a shade entirely unsuitable for the room of an almost-four-year-old. Which brings me to my request: Pink, please, could you just tone yourself down a tad around my tot? Seriously, if there's anything you can do to steer Crabkid toward your softer, paler, less trashy side, I'd greatly appreciate it.
Thanks for your time, oh most popular color of little girls. I know how busy you are.
Sincerely,
Crabmommy
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