Happy Meal

Since my son enrolls in preschool daycare, every year, I will get an invitation before Thanksgiving, which held by the school. 

All of parents will be inviting to join this party, sitting the kid’s kitchen, eating food with kids and stuff.

Imposing pictures will be showing in the cafeteria in this particular day. Several teachers, including director of the school, in same floral apron-skirts, go between the eight rows of tables back and forth, severing all kinds of food for kids and parents enthusiastically.

They pass the food on each table—pinkish roasted turkey, dark green fried string beans, brown gravy mashed potatoes and purple crystal-like cranberry jelly, which came from the kid’s daily menu, decorates the plate like a kid’s colorful painting—playful and enjoyable.

It causes me think of graffiti-style painting, one of featured entertainments in the school. Putting on the blue overalls, mixing red, yellow, green or other colors together, every kid becomes the boldest painter in watercolor history. Using most fashionable tools in the world—two little hands—blend various colors into a 12x 18 inch drawing board, they create a world in a riot of shade.

The colors may not are same professional as a PANTON color system of Adobe InDesign; however, the colors always shock me when I see it at the first glace, since it is the most straightforward imagination how ingenuous kid touches this world.

Today, in the Thanksgiving party, the colors still impress me. At every rectangle table, autumn color can be found everywhere—scarecrows standing at the center table, in grass-green or orange-red overalls; mini pumpkins speckled with golden powder sitting beside the dishes cause me think of a feast happened in a fairy story.

Sitting among the kids and teachers, I enjoy the food and the hilarious atmosphere. Toward end of lunch, loud noise appear —a girl, in purple dress, is running out the cafeteria towards to hallway and two of five-year-old boy are chasing each other, the same happy as usual when they finish their lunch here every day.

I am happy too—it is the only chance that somebody treats me like a kid.