Seb set his brush down and scanned the faultless sky. “Enough blue to make a dress,* as you used to say mother,” he chuckled. His literal child logic at the time, always thought it would be an extremely large dress or there would be a ton of left over material.
He picked up his brush again and on the shore, he painted a beautiful lady sitting on a towel watching a little boy, net and bucket in hand, clambering in and out of the rock pools.
Seb sighed, “There you go Mum, we’ll call this one, ‘Enough blue to make a dress.’”
*I believe the correct version of this expression is, ‘enough blue to patch a Dutchman’s breeches.’ I grew up with Mum’s versions of all the colloquial sayings.
Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.