Throwback Thursday, where, essentially I post old writing samples, essays and short stories that I dig up from my pile of hoarded papers and school assignments or from the depths of my computer. So everyone can see how my writing has changed/improved over the years.
In kindergarten, there was only one debate bigger than “Crayola v. Rozart” (and really, everyone knows that Crayola is the winner there). That argument is, of course, “what color is this?” Common contenders of this fight are: red/orange and blue/green, both of which probably have actual names that no one uses. But the argument, actually more like all out war, of my kindergarten class was over a color from the Rozart box, called Orchid.
Orchid is this pink/purple color that was a favorite among the girls of the class. Of course, because no one could read, no one knew it was called Orchid, so we all called it pink or purple depending on the side of the argument you fell on.
I was firmly entrenched in the belief that it was purple. My kindergarten best friend firmly believed it was pink. In order to salvage our friendship from this crushing betrayal, we settled on naming the color “pinkish-purplish”(a perfectly acceptable name considering we were five years old).
Of course, we had to explain to our peers why we were very obviously correct in our naming, and everyone else was wrong. So, we gave the crayon an origin story, and this is that origin story: Once upon a time, a pink crayon and a purple crayon got married and had a baby. That baby was a perfect mix of pink and purple. The crayon parents argued about which one of them the baby should be named after. Finally they came to an agreement, and thus the crayon was named “pinkish-purplish”.
Again, this made perfect sense to a group of five year olds. And although our teacher crushed our little hearts by telling us the crayons real name was Orchid, we never did stop calling it pinkish-purpleish.