Purple Car

Arielle Haughee

Green car has a white stripe and blue car has a red stripe. I line them up on the table. Purple car goes next. Purple car is the best. I sing my song when I play with purple car. I dig through my bin of cars.

“Jimmy, I’m going to get a shower, ok?” like to sing. I like to sing the purple car song. “Purple car. Purple car. Driving down the road—”

Mommy likes the shower. Mommy likes to be by herself in the shower. Mommy always tells me to go play when she’s in the shower.

I can’t find purple car. I dump the whole bin of cars on the floor. Purple car is not there. I need purple car. I get out of my chair and look for purple car. It is not on the couch. It is not on the rug. It is not on the couch. I need mommy.

“Jimmy! Do not sing that song. Go find something else to play with. Mommy’s busy.”

I am angry. “Purple car!”

“No. No more purple car. Now go play.”

“I see the front door. Purple car might be outside. I get my chair. I turn the lock. I am outside. Purple car is a car. It might be in the road.”

I am very, very angry. Very, very, very angry. I yell, “I’m gonna eat you up!” I don’t like the bathroom anymore. I leave.

The bathroom is hot. Mommy is singing. I

I see the front door. Purple car might be outside. I get my chair. I turn the lock. I am outside. Purple car is a car. It might be in the road.

I walk to the street. There is a puddle. I put my feet in it. Up. Down. Up. Down. Splash! Splash! Splash! I like this.

A blue car is coming. It does not have a red stripe. I like the big wheels. They crunch when they roll by. Fire hydrant! I need to touch it. I need to touch it on the top and the side and the side and the top. I run across the street. This fire hydrant is gray. I touch it. Top, side, side, top.

“Jimmy!”

I hear mommy. She is in the house. Maybe she is looking for purple car. I will look for purple car, too. I will look outside more.

I walk in the grass. There are no ants today. I don’t like ants. I step on them when I see them. The grass is gone. Now it is dirt. I hear a beep beep beep. Excavator. Bulldozer. Crane. I know all their names. Road roller roll, roll, roll. Just like my book. I love trucks. I want to touch them. I walk.

I see tracks. I stomp on them. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. I make them flat with my feet. There are more tracks that way. I go that way. These are muddy tracks. They don’t like to go flat. My shoe comes off. I need to put it on. I sit down. My shoe won’t go on. My pants are dirty.

I need mommy. Mommy isn’t here.

I hear a beep beep beep. Bulldozer. Yellow bulldozer. It is coming closer. Beep, beep, beep. It drives backwards. No, bulldozer. I need to put my shoe on.

It won’t go on. I want mommy. I cry. “Mommy!” The bulldozer is loud. “No, bulldozer, no!” I cover my ears. “Mommy!” Big hairy arms grab me. They are not daddy’s arms.

“Shut it down, Carl!”

I am confused. I don’t know this man. I want mommy. I wiggle. Put me down.

“Jimmy!” I hear mommy. Mommy is running. Mommy is wearing a towel. I laugh. Silly mommy.

“Oh my God.” Mommy holds me tight. She gives me a kiss. I wipe it off. I don’t like kisses. “I didn’t know he could open the door.”

“My youngest used to do that to me, too.” The hairy man talks to mommy. I watch the cars go by on the road. I put my head down on mommy. She touches my hair.

Mommy carries me back home. I like when mommy carries me. “Jimmy, you can’t open the front door and go outside without mommy. You understand? No outside without mommy. Say ‘no outside without mommy.’”

“No outside without mommy.”

“Good boy.”

I see green car and blue car on the table. “I want purple car.”

Mommy reaches up high, high on the bookshelf. “Here, sweetheart.” Mommy’s face is wet. “Purple car!” I sing my song. I am happy. Mommy is happy, too. ◆ ◆ ◆

About The Author

Arielle Haughee (Hoy) is a seven-time RPLA-winning author, editor, speaker, and publisher. She is the owner of the small press Orange Blossom Publishing and was previously the Executive Vice President and Marketing Chair for the Florida Writers Association. She was honored with the President’s Award from FWA in 2020, and in 2021 Pling’s Party was awarded Children’s Book of the Year.