Downtown Harold's Place

My daughter was looking out the car window on a particularly sunny day last week.  “The sky is purple!” she announced.

The sky looked like it did on just about any other day.  Except for a few puffy white clouds, it was bright, brilliant and blue.  I vaguely remembered a few weeks earlier when I pointed out a picturesque sunset to the kids.  It was purple that day, kind of.  Why rock the boat?  “Yeah,” I said.  “The sky can be purple sometimes.  It could also be orange or gray or…”

“The sky is blue!” my son interrupted.  He shouted it, like a challenge, as if to shame me for humoring his sister.

“No!  The sky is purple!” she countered from the seat beside him.  “It’s purple!”

“It’s blue!”

“Purple!”

“Blue!”

“Purple!  DADDDDDDDDY!”

Now it was a debate.  Was the sky blue or purple?  The dad in me said that…