Christina likes pink. Given a choice, my five-year-old daughter will take the pink balloon, the pink panties, the pink baseball bat. And Christina likes her pink pink. Cerise, rose, fuchsia – none of the variations on the color pink will do it for her. She wants the real thing, powder puff pink, little girl pink.
My little son Peter likes money. He wants an allowance. Jon and I debated. Fifty cents a week? 75 cents? “Let’s not talk in cents,” said Peter, who is 6 1/2, pushing 7. “Let’s talk in dollars.”