He was a purple dinosaur, although not that purple dinosaur, last year for Halloween. This year, the youngest oscillates, now saying a purple spider, now a purple pumpkin, now a purple ghost. The common thread, as always, is purple.
It's no mean feat, saturating his world with the hue he finds superior to all others, but I'm getting pretty good at it. Suede shoes can be dyed. Navy pants and shorts, when bleached, become purple.
Shade of purple isn't terribly important. Nor, in fact, is having purple if no purple is to be found. He understands that not everything comes in purple, but if it does, well, he wants purple.
Periodically he goes on what he calls Purple Adventures, wherein he gathers all the purple he sees as he tromps through the house, ending gleefully swathed in purple, arms overflowing with purple.
Someone recently sent me a link to Cuervito Morado, a Winston-Salem company that specializes in authentic Mexican food products. Most excitingly, Cuervito Morado in English is Purple Crow, and if you hover over the EVENTS button, you get to see what looks like a stick of deodorant* sing AND RAP while a purple crow plays guitar. The youngest now refers to this as My Favorite Purple Song, and he asks to hear and watch it several times a day.
*My husband, born and raised in Mexico, informs me this is is Crema Mexicana, a condensed milk of sorts that popularly is put on everything in Mexico City.