Purple Backpack

Veronica is obsessed. She has decided that she needs to have a backpack. But not just any backpack. She needs to have a purple backpack.

While in general I appreciate Veronica’s ability to let us know exactly what is on her mind, there are some times when I think the only reason she speaks so well is because she discovered how much fun it is to make demands. (With a less persistent child, you might be tempted to call them “requests.” But Veronica doesn’t let go — when she wants something, she wants it. Now.)

I don’t know what triggered her need for a backpack, but we were outside a few days ago when she brought it up. “Roni backpack. Purple backpack,” she told me. 

“You want a backpack?” I asked, wanting to be sure I understood what she was telling me. 

“Yes. Purple backpack.” 

I thought it was a reasonable enough request … she’ll be able to carry her own things when we go places. If I buy a reasonably good backpack she’ll still be able to use it when she starts pre-K next year. So I told her I would look for a purple backpack for her. 

And now she asks me about it every day. Several times a day. And she’s losing patience with me because I haven’t been able to find a toddler-sized purple backpack for her. And that is not good. 

So this morning I decided I would use my LL Bean gift card (intended to buy myself something new) to get her a backpack. They have kid-sized packs that should last a few years, and the gift card would help defray the cost (which is slightly higher than I might normally spend on a backpack for a 2-year-old). 

Because Veronica is so particular, I showed her the catalog with the color options, and asked her which one she wanted. She studied it carefully for a minute or two, then pointed to the pink polka dot pack. “That.”

Now while Colin has shown absolutely no interest in a backpack of his own, I know that if I get one for Veronica, I had better have one for him. Otherwise we will be facing a major battle every time the backpack comes out. (Ask me about the red rocking chair some day.) So I showed Colin the catalog with the backpacks, and he immediately pointed to the school bus in the picture. “Bus!!!”

“Yes Colin, that is a bus. Very good. Now which backpack would you like? Do you like the one with sharks?”

Colin: “Bus!!!” 

Okay, I get the picture. Colin doesn’t care, and that's a school bus in the picture. Fine. I’ll pick one and hope you like it. 

And that, my friends, is a perfect example of how differently Colin’s and Veronica’s brains are wired. She is a girl who knows what she wants, and will make sure she gets it. (Purple backpack!) He’s a boy who is excited when he sees a bus (or a train, or a boat or a truck).