03/20/98

Color Me Wiser

Her taste in clothes ran to the theatrical. Summer or winter, no outfit was complete without sunglasses. One steamy August morning she came downstairs in plastic sandals, a short red, white and blue dress and four beaded necklaces, each one knotted at the bottom. She wore an oversized Mickey Mouse watch and bright red lipstick, penciled on slightly outside the lipline for that fuller look. Her hair was straight spun gold, worn in a dutch-boy cut to frame her face.

Squat-heeled sandals clicked rhythmically on the oak floor as she strode into the kitchen pantry to find some cereal for breakfast. She was making another show-stopper entrance, while I was doing my best not to stare. This morning's sunglasses had white frames with tiny red polka-dots and dark black lenses, not the mirror kind, but opaque nonetheless. What a character. And at the time she made this particular entrance, she had just turned three.

"I'm done with my cereal, Mom. Can Sadhana play today?"

"Let's give her a call," I replied. Her mom invited both of us over.

It was a perfect day for the girls to play outside while Barbara and I sipped iced tea on the porch. En route we bought some powdered paints for Sadhana's easel, which her dad had set up in their yard on a big plastic sheet to protect the grass.

After gleeful hugs, the girls inspected the bag of paints, put them by the front door, and scampered off to the swings for awhile. Barbara and I headed for the kitchen to steep hot tea before icing it down.

The girls' squeals moved from the side yard to the front porch and lingered there for some time. Our curiosity peaked, we walked to the front door, expecting to help mix the paints and check the easel's paper supply.

To our amazement, our enterprising daughters had turned on the garden hose and brought buckets of water onto the porch to mix the paints themselves. With brushes from the easel they were busily redecorating the front porch in brilliant swathes of red, yellow, and blue. Their laughter and broad smiles froze at the sight of us. No one moved.

I glanced warily at Barbara, waiting for the certain eruption which never came. She turned away and quietly disappeared into the house, ran up the stairs, and returned with her camera! She took several pictures of our paint-spattered, mischievous elves, grinning proudly at their handiwork. Naturally we had to impose the paint etiquette rules and supervise the girls while they hosed down the porch. Then, no harm done, we returned to the more important business of solving the world's problems over tea and cakes, this time from the glider on the not-quite-so-white front porch.

I've been forever grateful to Barbara for this lesson in parenting. I don't think I could have kept my perspective or held my temper like she did, had I been faced with the same circumstances at my house. But after that day, I could. When your volcano threatens to blow, run and get the camera! It gives you time to calm down, think, and collect priceless pictures worth a thousand memories for years to come.

Please send questions or comments to bbruno@snet.net.