The Joy of Cracking Open a Can of Paint

Infusing our little home with green & yellow.

Despite the fact that I’m nearly 6-feet tall, both of my children were born quite small — particularly the youngest, Léa, who was under 4 pounds. When she was in the NICU, I sat pressed up against her incubator and wondered whether it was affection or fatigue that convinced my eyes that my newborn was emitting a soft glow. This mini human was quietly beaming something out that fiercely pulled me in. It pulled everyone in. Day or night, whenever Adam and I arrived at the hospital, we’d find several (incredible) NICU staff members huddled around Léa, despite the fact that only one person was assigned to her. They all said the same thing— there was just something about her. A radiating warmth. A welcoming shine. 

To me, she was cocooned an inexplicable, magical yellow. 

Since then, the color has fully won me over. I see it everywhere. It waves at me. It tugs at me. It fills me with a sort of intimate jubilation. 

Meanwhile, our son is lured in by the color green in all its earthy hues.

On his little sister’s third birthday last weekend, he also received a gift— a watch with a green face and a green strap. (He then found out how to make the nightlight within it glow green, too — a feature I didn’t know existed despite sourcing the timepiece myself.)

He asked that we make an effort at bringing more green into our home so that “the inside looks more like the outside.”