The child who could name all the Dragon Tales characters before he was two was having trouble with his color association. I even went so far as to research the existence of color-blindness in my family. My toddler always said the color names, but when you asked him the color of the green block, he would say, “yellow.” In fact, he went through a yellow period, then a green period, then a blue period.
As time went on, he did hit the right color now and then, and just like a man, he was quite sure of black, brown and white. Blue was also a pretty good bet. But try yellow, red, green, orange or purple, and it was a toss up. The really frustrating thing was that when you held up a banana and asked its color, he said purple, and then when you said “No, it is yellow” and ask again, he said red and grinned. He knew you wanted him to perform, and he enjoyed his power. It was like he was playing with you.
Then one day I sat my toddler down, and held up a brown M&M. I asked him what color it was, and he answered correctly. I responded by putting the candy in his mouth. While he was chewing, I held up a blue M&M and asked again. He was again rewarded. I repeated the procedure with a few more blue and brown M&M’s, until his mouth and lips were wet with chocolate and he was looking for more. Then I held up a red M&M and asked him its color.
“Yellow,” he said.
“No, it’s red.” I responded, and popped the M&M into my mouth. The confused look on his face was priceless. I held up another red M&M and asked its color.
“Red,” he said desperately, and I rewarded him by pushing it between his lips.
I held up a yellow one and asked him. “Green,” he responded.
“No, it’s yellow.” I ate it. Again, that furrowed brow.
Another yellow one. “Yellow,” he said, keen to the game now—my game this time, my rules.
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As time went on, he did hit the right color now and then, and just like a man, he was quite sure of black, brown and white. Blue was also a pretty good bet. But try yellow, red, green, orange or purple, and it was a toss up. The really frustrating thing was that when you held up a banana and asked its color, he said purple, and then when you said “No, it is yellow” and ask again, he said red and grinned. He knew you wanted him to perform, and he enjoyed his power. It was like he was playing with you.
Then one day I sat my toddler down, and held up a brown M&M. I asked him what color it was, and he answered correctly. I responded by putting the candy in his mouth. While he was chewing, I held up a blue M&M and asked again. He was again rewarded. I repeated the procedure with a few more blue and brown M&M’s, until his mouth and lips were wet with chocolate and he was looking for more. Then I held up a red M&M and asked him its color.
“Yellow,” he said.
“No, it’s red.” I responded, and popped the M&M into my mouth. The confused look on his face was priceless. I held up another red M&M and asked its color.
“Red,” he said desperately, and I rewarded him by pushing it between his lips.
I held up a yellow one and asked him. “Green,” he responded.
“No, it’s yellow.” I ate it. Again, that furrowed brow.
Another yellow one. “Yellow,” he said, keen to the game now—my game this time, my rules.