Our Little Multi-Cultural Politician

The other day our dryer broke down and we had to rent one while ours was being repaired. Two African American gentlemen came to deliver the rental and move ours to the garage. Lily decided to hang out with them and watch. After they had nearly finished, Heather walks into the laundry room and Lily turns to her and asks matter of factly "Why are they speakin' Spanish mom?" Heather's eyes got as big as saucers as she searched for the right way to tackle this one. Luckily, the two men burst out laughing. Heather informed Lily that it was in fact not Spanish. One of the men turned to Lily and said "No, sweetie, that's what you call Ebonics." We all had a good laugh.

It brought back memories of an "incident" at our local park just a few weeks ago. Lily had befriended a little African American boy about her age and they were playing all over the playground together. It became apparent that she had failed to learn his name however. At one point the two became separated. When Lily spotted the boy clear across the crowded playground from her, she yelled out in her not so soft voice: "Hey black guy!" over and over at the top of her lungs until reunited again with the boy. I had slunk down on the park bench, hoping for that brief instant that everyone else in the park was suddenly struck deaf, and waited for an opportunity to pull Lily aside. When I did, I asked her why she didn't call the boy by his name. She said she didn't know it. I then asked why she called him "black guy" and she said "Dad, he has a black shirt on." We had a brief chat about the importance of learning people's names.