Guest Quarters: Ashley Mills - The Darndest Things - September 18, 2008

Ashley Mills is our Guest Editor this week and her blog is Supabloggasuprememama. I love this post & it could really happen to any one of us. Ya gotta love what comes from the mouths of babes.

Thanks Ashley!

The Darndest Things

Yesterday morning, the sun was shining, the sky was clear, and church goers everywhere were migrating from the parking lots into the buildings where classes and services were held.

I was doing that very thing, a bit harried from the morning’s activities with my temporary gig as a single mom. Emerson in one arm, and Aiden grasping my hand, I was quite proud of myself that we were even dressed, much less on time. We were hauling it to the side door as I was determined to make it to Sunday school. We passed the greeter in the parking lot, and he responded to us with a friendly “Good morning!” as he always does. After responding myself, I asked Aiden, who was currently staring intently at the ground to keep up with my pace, “Can you say good morning, Aiden?”

Aiden, glanced up as if suddenly aware of his surroundings, and much to my utmost horror, pointed at the man as if seeing a novelty for the very first time.

The greeter was right beside us.

We were the only ones within earshot.

At first I didn’t understand what Aiden was saying. So I kept asking him. Smart. Out of frustration, Aiden grew more excited, as if determined to make me understand what he was saying. Over and over and over again, until his little words became more and more discernable.

“It’s a black man, mommy! It’s a black man!” He replied, excited.

Okay. Pause. I did NOT teach my child this. I was mortified that he would point out any race, just as much as I would hate it if he pointed to someone with any kind of difference. Aiden has no prejudices. I just didn’t want what he was saying to be perceived as rude. Children are geared that way. I strive not to use the word “fat” in description of someone else, as well as myself, much less point out races to him. He was merely observing that this man, was, in fact, a different color than us. Did they sing “Jesus Loves the Little Children” in sunday school and he made the natural assumption? That song should be banned.

And I wanted to crawl into the drainage ditch and die. Right there.

At first, I thought that was surely NOT what he could be saying. And then as the realization slowly crept to my conscience, I tried to play it off, while we kept walking. This made me look dumber:

“What? It’s a fireman?”

This only made Aiden more irate. “NO, mommy! A BLACK man!” The greeter smiled politely and continued on, while I wished my child came with a mute button.

What was I supposed to do? Lean over and gently correct him with the term “African American?” Talk about a tongue twister. “Yes, Aiden, and you are white,” is what I should have said. Way to be on your toes, mommy. Looking back now, I’m kind of proud that Aiden is observant enough to notice differences.

Aiden spotted a wheelchair at church the other day, and I caught him staring at it, in awe of what I am sure he thought was some elite racing mechanism. I can’t wait to see what he comes up with for that one.

I just wish he wouldn’t point out loud and scream excitedly like some sheltered white kid in the parking lot, making me look like Hitler’s granddaughter in the process.

 

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