The Power of Color

Our living room has been beige for the twelve years since we moved in. The kitchen was a compromise medium blue and not anyone’s favorite. When we came home from the pool yesterday, the painters had finished, and the open space had been transformed by Iced Cube Silver.

Benjamin Moore 2121=50.

Said our eight year old, “I just walked into this room, and it made me feel settled.”

He had suffered a small setback in managing his rage at the pool. So I am tempted to paint the entire house a gorgeous, soothing Iced Cube Silver.

Quote from an Eight Year Old

We were talking about the complicated web of rules and social alliances an eight year old boy must negotiate to survive recess. He is frustrated with the inconsistency of friendships and where he falls in the order of teammates picked. He says he sometimes feels invisible.

I have found that the second through fourth grade years are tough on boys, as they become aware of athleticism, the cool factor, and “boy world” pecking order. I was advising him to choose a different game or friend on days when football brings him down. Recess is supposed to be fun.

He looked at me, deeply serious. Eyes big and teary. “But would you rather people were friends with you for who you really are, or who you want to be? I want them to pick me to be their friend because of who I already am.”