“Okay, Parson,” said the passing-through-town friend as she stood in the middle of a small bedroom that used to be Ms. Parson's sewing room and which was now stripped to the sub-floor with walls possessing marks from sanding to make them smooth again. “You're converting this into a 'grandchildren's room?”
“And you're going to have a trundle bunk bed here, a small love seat there, a computer desk there. Right?”
“Well, I think that's going to look really super. But you're going to paint the walls purple, green, red and yellow?”
“Why in the world would you use that many colors and that combination?”
“Well, purple is the favorite color of the oldest granddaughter; green is the favorite of the next to the oldest granddaughter; red is the favorite of the youngest one and yellow the other one.”
The friend stared. The friend's brow wrinkled.
The parson said, “You don't have any grandchildren, do you?”