“Pick a color,” he told me. I chose a deep fading blue.
“Dark Blue!” he exclaimed; blue is his favorite color. I sat next to him; my arm jostled his; I’m a lefty, he a righty.
“Mommy!” he giggled. “Look what you did!” and showed me the errant mark on his paper. We sat side by side, elbow to elbow, he coloring, me writing with a deep fading blue and Benny Friedman playing in the not so distant background.
“The Mommy and Totty are going round the block,” he said as he drew wide circles and winding lines. He proffered his hands in my direction,
“Oiy, Mommy, look, look,” there were blue streaks on his palm and wrist. “Want my blue? He perked up suddenly. I declined and he frowned a moment.
“I’m gonna write on you paper,” he informed me. I raised my hand to block his marker descending dead-center on my page. He only nicked it.
“Ma! He exclaimed. “Ma!” I blocked him again. He retreated.
“Ma, Ma, look at my picture.” He pushed it towards me, covering my paper.
“Beautiful,” I said with dutiful enthusiasm, but there was no light behind my eyes.
Terrible, I know. But I was coloring side by side with him. Better than reading on the couch I told myself, better than reading on the couch.