Last week, Sunny came home from school with an art project wrapped in newspaper and a plastic grocery bag of indeterminate origin.
The bundle sat on the counter as I threw dinner together, until my MIL, with her usual tact, asked me if it was trash that someone should put in the garbage. I rescued it and opened it while she went to call the others.
I looked at the sculpture for a while in wonder, and put it in the center of the table, for a conversation piece.
It worked.
“What is that?” My MIL asked.
“It’s my purple carrot,” Sunny said, scooping the center out of her dinner roll.
“That’s not a purple carrot,” Jane said. “It’s a . . . squished snake? That isn’t really purple?”
“It’s a fish,” Sunny said. “And his name is Purple Carrot. See? I painted him purple, except the . . . the hot oven thing made it too light.”
“The kiln?” I said.
“Yeah. And Gail said it looked like a carrot, before I made it flat.”
Gail is Sunny’s very best friend and co-conspirator. Everyone needs a Gail, who gives hugs to everyone she meets and may very well be the limitless energy source that will save the world, if anyone can figure out how to keep her still long enough to harness it.
Gail is often quoted around here—or evoked as authoritative approval.
“A screaming purple carrot?” Jane said.
“He’s not screaming. He’s trying to breathe. Gail says—”
“Why is a fish trying to breathe?”
“He’s evolving, Janie! Duh!”
“So,” my husband said. “He’s a lungfish?”
“Yes,” Sunny said. “He’s trying really hard to get them.”
“Get what?” my MIL asked.
“Lungs.”
“Does evolution even work like that?” Jane asked.
“Maybe he’s a Pokémon,” I said.
“Or a Kirby-fish,” Jane said. “He looks like one of those cleaner fish—what’s that called?”
“Plecostomus?” I asked.
“Yeah. That.”
“He’s a Purple. Carrot. Fish,” Sunny said, stabbing at her green beans with her fork. “Gail likes him.”
“He’s fantastic, honey,” I said. “I like him very much, too. His scales are really good and his expression is perfect.”
“Thanks, Mommy.”
“And I think Screaming Purple Carrot is a great name for a rock band,” I said, pushing my luck.
She beamed. “That’s what Gail said!”
OMG. Now that’s art.
XO
I know, right? 😀
A masterpiece. I wanna Sunny original. I’ll even call it whatever she says it is.
She says she’ll make you a PorcuRat. Or a Rattapine. Or something. 🙂
Yesssss!
Wow. It’s like the child is a changeling. So different than her family around her!
No, we just like to give her a hard time. 😀
She seems to give as good as she gets.
Ohhhhhh, yeah.
It’s great! And imagine all of you frustrating her like that. The nerve. 😉
It really is. 🙂
In this family, it’s a sign of affection—believe me, she gives as good as she gets! 😀
Purple Carrot is so Beaker and Kermit’s love child. I cannot express how much I love this!!
Oh, wow—he is! 🙂
She makes these weird things and they all have stories . . . ❤
Quite an imagination. Love it! Not sure I’d want to meet a real live Purple Carrot, though. He’d be alarming if you cam upon him suddenly.
Whoops. *came upon.
She does! 🙂
And the irrational fear of real fish like P.C. is one of the reasons I don’t go into the ocean. Gah!
Let me know when Purple Carrot has their first gig. I’ll be standing in line over here for tickets.
Awesome, Dee! We’ll get you backstage passes and a kewl tee in Screaming Purple.
Think we can get the Piano Guys to open? 🙂