Race & Toddlers

In the middle of unloading my paper towels, plastic Easter eggs, diapers and dental floss onto the conveyor belt at Target, Beckett pointed to our cashier and said, "Her is black." We've been working on our colors at home. Skin color has not come into the lesson, but he made the jump on his own. My face immediately flushed.

Now let's freeze here for a minute - why was I embarrassed? Well, first, the cashier was NOT amused. So that didn't help. But I wasn't embarrassed when he said loud enough for the mother to hear, "That baby has a helmet on. Maybe he was skateboarding," about an infant with a head shaping helmet on. And I'm never embarrassed when he talks about a child at school who is in a wheelchair or has leg braces. He's curious, learning and only two and a half. Did I think that our cashier thought he was racist? I mean, look at the kid, he is never less cute than  the photo above, clearly he has no hate or malice. Perhaps I was afraid she thought I was racist. I'm not, but I felt like saying anything about it would be completely awkward. "OH! He's just learning his colors. We love everyone. No racism in our house! Ha. Haa..." Yep. Glad I didn't go that route.

She just stared at me with steely eyes, as she bagged our items. Something needed to be said. "Say hello, B," was all I could think of. To which she got a sing songy "Hiii," and a wave from him. Still nothing on her end. I gave an overly friendly goodbye. And on the way out I talked about all the skin shades, eye and hair color people come in and told him that it's just a little part of what makes the world such an interesting and beautiful place.

But I'm still thinking about it. Should I have done something different? Or maybe our cashier was just having a bad day.