I was never a pink girl, but flamingo pink gets me. I must pause for that pink.

My family has several flamingo stories. One is about Daddy and the other about little Rose.

Daddy said if there were jobs in heaven, he wanted to help birds. He paused. We waited for him to say bluebirds, but instead he said he wanted to help the flamingos. Mr. Bluebird turns pink!

My son and I distinctly remember the Rose and Flamingo Pink story. We were out on our deck making a model of a flamingo out of trash for his first grade project. Four-year-old Rose wanted to be involved. I gave her all the paint squirt bottles and told her to mix up flamingo pink for our future bird on a paper plate. We turned our attention back to our big pop bottle body, paper towel roll neck and assorted trash for legs, beak, feathers and feet.

Rose was busy mixing paint unattended. I assumed a mess was being made. My son and I were bending the wire legs when Rose announced she was done.

Her brother and I looked over at Rose and the plate. It was full of the perfect Flamingo pink! No mess. No other colors just that pink with a hint of peach.

We were stunned. We looked at each other and then little Rose. The irony is she does not even like pink. I hope she will wear these socks I bought for her anyway.

So flamingos will always hold my attention and bring back memories of little Rose and my Bluebird Daddy.

The house in Palm Springs had a Flamingo Pink theme. So we now have another set of pink stories. Here are pics of the Palm Springs Pink.

FLOW loves Flamingos