We tried being a white picket fence family, and it worked for a while. We were two little girls in matching dresses and striped, fleece jackets from The Children’s Place. Mom made brownie batter and dad brought home the dough. It worked for a while, and in some ways it still does. Except when it doesn’t. You can’t be a white picket fence family when one little girl turns out not to be and everyone is in therapy. You can’t be a white picket fence family when everyone has neon hair and no one believes in god. There is no room for purple, green, pink, or orange inside of a white picket fence.
So we became a purple picket fence family: we kept the structure but gave it a fresh coat of paint.