Blues

Every time I have to teach a child about colors, I cringe inside. It is one of many things I feel I am forced to lie about as a parent. There are so many shades and degrees and characters to any given color that I feel downright guilty declaring chartreuse and emerald to both be “green.”

This came into sharp relief the other day when Tim was wearing a dark navy blue shirt while riding an electric blue scooter and looking at a pale blue sky that were all declared by me to be the same color. How is a child supposed to process that information and get any sense of the color blue? Whitewashing (or “bluewashing”) the facts would seem to serve only to confuse the matter and delay progress.

The miracle is, of course, that they all figure it out somehow from this faulty and misleading mish-mosh of information, but I still can’t help feeling that there is a better way. Don’t know what it is, but still.

This is analogous to teaching our children about religion very early on, and finding ourselves hard-pressed to find a Bible story that is even fit for young ears! Noah’s Ark is the closest we come, but that only works if no one asks you, “But why did God make it rain for 40 days and 40 nights?”

Forget how much laundry I do and how many dishes I wash; this is the stuff that really gets to me.

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