One of the girls is obsessed with this house. She simply calls it "The Purple House" and requests a drive-by whenever we're close. I mean, what little girl wouldn't want to live in a purple or pink house? Perfectly normal, right? Absolutely.
But for her it isn't simply being enamored with a home splendidly painted in her favorite color. There is also a plan. And the plan is that she is going to buy this house when she becomes a nurse and works in a children's hospital, and live in it with an assortment of animals whose names are already chosen, as well as some dear friends of ours (Fooz and Dord) so she can take care of them. There will be a "food garden", and we (the family) will all be invited to come for dinner every night to eat on the balcony, which is not in the picture but, trust me, bears a striking resemblance to a deck.
Word has it that she has described The Purple House to others as being "as beautiful as a rose petal". And she means it. This child wears her heart on her sleeve, truly loves this house and has dreams for it.
Oh to be five and live in a world where dreams and hopes of purple houses and taking care of people will, without question, come true.
It's times like this when I realize how pragmatic I've become and I don't like it very much. I used to be more of a dreamer, and while we all need a healthy dose of reality sometimes, maybe I've taken too much in the last few years and have come to depend on it. My children should not have to worry about whether or not the logistics of plans will work out. There is too much time for that later.
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