Talking to Kids About Race: Don't Complicate It

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The other day we were riding home from daycare and out of nowhere, Harrison says, China people have eyes like this. And he pulled the corners of his eye out toward his ears.

Now, I'm a social worker, I'm "culturally competent"...so you can possibly imagine that inside, I was MOR-TI-FIED!!!

Yes, people from China do have eyes that look different than ours... but it's not ok to make fun.

I wasn't making fun, it's just how they look. And he proceeded to do the eye thing again. ::shudder::

Yes, people look lots of different ways- some are tall and some are short, some have light skin, and some have dark skin... but doing that with your eyes could hurt someones feelings- it might feel like you're making fun.

You mean like Dora? (oh yes, the poor girl whom you recently threatened to kick in the "bagina")

Yes, Dora is from Mexico (I think???) and her skin is a little darker than yours.

And the Ninja Turtles! They have green skin because they're from You Nork. (Translation: New York)

Yes, babe... just like the Ninja Turtles.

I know this won't be our last conversation about race- I made it clear that it's ok to notice people's differences, but not ok to make fun. Someday I want him to have a deeper understanding, to know what oppression means and that diversity is something to be fostered and not feared, but for now, I believe this was enough.

How have you handled similar conversations with young children?

The City Mouse and the Country Mouse

We recently took the boys to a fishing derby in the small town where Dadd-O and I grew up. It was so nice to slow down our normally fast-paced life and spend a few hours by a pond. Harrison liked the idea of fishing at first. He happily casted a couple of times, but he quickly lost interest. Most of his time was spent walking around, supervising and eating goldfish (crackers) from a Tupperware.

Staying hydrated (he stole that water)

I immediately began to blame myself for his lack of interest in the great outdoors- don't get me wrong we spend time outside, but we're usually in our backyard or at the park. Clearly, we have not gotten this boy out into the woods enough- I wanted him to catch frogs and climb trees, get dirty and skin his knees (not an intentional rhyme, but I think it works here). He's a social butterfly, with a kind, sensitive soul, but woodsy he is not.

Our littlest one, on the other hand, was handing me worms (unlike his father), looking for rocks, and digging in the dirt. It's clear that he loved being outside and was not afraid to get his hands (and feet and face) dirty.

Contemplating throwing something into the pond

I've always been amazed at just how very different siblings can be from one another. They were raised in the same home, by the same parents, in a similar fashion, so maybe it's nothing that I did or didn't do enough... maybe they're just different.

Real Life

I've been solo parenting for close to a week now as Dadd-O is away for work. Evenings have been pretty uneventful- pick up from daycare/preschool, play outside, eat dinner, playtime, Harrison watches TV while I put Jaxy to bed, I fight with him to brush his teeth and go to sleep... And repeat.

Yesterday, I thought I'd mix it up a little, and decided last minute to stop at the local playground. I wasn't really dressed in playground attire, but I figured, What the heck? Live a little! (yes, this is my life now). As we pulled in to the school parking lot, I realized how busy it was- and I also realized that I had to pee BAD. If you've given birth to a child (or more than one) you know how that can take a toll on your bladder. So when I say I had to pee, I had to pee NOW.

I'll be right back, I said.
I wanna come, screamed Harrison.
No, I'll be right back. I just have to pee.
So do I!

Of course... of course you do. I can't leave screaming children in my car in a school parking lot with 100 witnesses people nearby. I didn't see a porta-potty and I'm not familiar enough with the school to know if it was locked, or even where the bathroom was, and things were getting pretty urgent. I took the boys out of their car seats, held their little hands as we crossed the busy parking lot, and walked carefully into the "woods". (By woods, I mean five feet of trees between the parking lot and some one's backyard.)

Sssshhhh, I said. I'm just going to pee really quick. Luckily I was wearing a skirt, so I squatted down and went to work.

Are you pooping? Harrison yelled.
No! Ssshhh!

And that's when Jaxy squatted down to check out what I was doing right up close.

Bubbles! He exclaimed.
Yes, there are bubbles... from my pee.

Harrison then proceeded with a less than accurate anatomy lesson on how girls pee differently than boys and "baginas" are grosser than penises.

I finished up, drip dried and stood to head out of the "woods". That's when I realized that the back of my skirt was wet. Not just a little wet either, the back of my skirt was soaked in urine.

Shit!
Shit's a bad word, Harrison reminded me.
Yes, it is, sorry.
Can we go play now?
Yes, just a second. I need to get something out of my car.

Thankfully, I'd been driving my gym bag around, unused, for the past two weeks. I reached in and found a pair of yoga pants, slipped them on under my skirt and voila. But wait... I can't wear my dressy work shirt with yoga pants.

Boys, stay right there on the edge of the grass.
Why are you getting in the car?

I stealthily slipped one shirt off and the other one on, while the boys threw rocks onto the grass (apologies to whomever mows). I'm telling myself that no one saw a thing.

Why did you change your shirt? Did you pee on your shirt?
Who wants me to push them on the swing?!?

I can't make this shit up, people.