A Two-fer

William has reached an important rite of passage in every young man's life.  Yes, an obsession with Legos.  He loves them.  He doesn't exactly know how to put them together on his own *cough* enabling parents who do it for him *cough* but he loves them.

Every time we go to Target, we have to go look at the Lego section.  And, no.  He does not get to purchase a set even close to every time.  He is satisfied with looking and putting them on the imaginary and never-ending "birthday list" or "Christmas list."  It's amazing how that works, by the way.

Can you buy this for me?

No.  Not today.

Can you get it for me for my birthday?

We'll put it on the list.

(Excitedly) Thanks, Mom! (I will be so sad when this ploy no longer works).

So, this past weekend my in-laws had the boys spend the night Friday and  told them they'd take them to Target to get a toy on Saturday.  It had to be less than $20. Where do you think William took them?  That's right.  Straight to the Lego section.  She pointed to the row of Legos that were $19.99.  His eye wandered to a row of Legos that were $39.99.

How about one of these, Gaga?

Not those.  See the 3 there?  You need to look for Legos that have a 1 as the first number.

What about this one?

Um, that has a 9 in front.  I don't think I have enough money for those, William.

Sounds like you need to get a job, Gaga.

He eventually settled on two Star Wars Death Star Lego sets for $9.99 each.  And Gaga has no plans to get a job to support William's Lego habit any time soon.

One of the sets he wants is about $70.  It's the Lego City Forest  Police Station.  Definitely one on the "Christmas list."  He talks about it all. the. time.  Santa better deliver.  I'm just saying.

This morning on the way to school, something occurred to him.

Mom.  Why do they call it Far-est City.  It's not that far. (Keep in mind.  We live in the South.  We don't always say things like you do).

Honey. It's FOR-est.  The place with lots of trees.

Yeah, cause all you have to do is turn right.  Then you go where my finger is pointing and then you go over this bridge, and then it's right there.  (Apparently he knows the exact location of an imaginary Lego forest).

Um.  Yup.  It's really not that far.

Race Card?

There comes a time in every parent's life when s/he realizes that his/her child realizes that people are different.  It's natural.  We all do it. Compare/contrast and all that jazz. But children notice things that we are embarrassed to talk about. It's not polite conversation.  You don't point out that someone's skin color is not that same as yours.  When William first described one of his teachers as the one "with the brown skin" Ben and I were nervous.  Reminded us of a Seinfeld episode.  "Should we be talking about this?  I don't think we should be talking about this."  But, when you really THINK about it, it's weird that it's weird.  People are different.  So what?  Makes life interesting.  Makes life diverse.  And pretending that you don't notice that someone looks different than you is a little strange.

Nevertheless, it's not something that's easy to broach.  So I didn't know what to think when the following transpired.

William was sitting on the couch, leaning against the arm and playing with my iPad.  Some drawing app.

White is a race and a color.

What the what? My heart skipped a beat.  What does a five year old know about race?  Who would be talking to him about that, anyway?  I took a breath and tried not to jump to conclusions.

Tell me again what you said?

White is a race AND a color.

Okay.  I didn't misunderstand.  Where do I go from here?  I channeled my very limited background in early education.  Ask questions.  Don't assume you know what a child is thinking.  Even though it was DEFINITELY obvious.  I heard it twice.

What do you mean by that?

Well, it's a 'erase' because you can erase with it, but it's also a color.

Yes.  Yes, it is.