You mean, I'm going to stay this color?

The Elder Boy asks a lot of questions. Pretty much, anytime you tell him something, he'll follow it up with, why? Seriously. It can be quite exhausting. It isn't that he's being insubordinate. He seems genuinely curious about things. Which is good. What is not, is that the poor Boy got me for a Dad, and well, I'm a dipshit.

Still, I'm a dedicated Dad and dipshit, so I will go to great lengths to find out why, so I can tell him. Often the answers lead to more questions, which, well it is kind of like Lost if you dig that reference or watch that show.

Then, one day, driving home from Burger House, the Boy asked a simple question on the whereabouts of his Mom that led to a series of questions, that quite simply changed the game for good. Making it much harder, and not so easy to find the answers to the tough questions we all face. To illustrate how it can go from 0 to Crazy, below is my recollection of the conversation. Mind you I'm driving in Messoplex traffic during it. And that I'm a dipshit. I speak to the Boy(s) as if they were adults using big words. My Lovely Bride thinks I'm crazy. She's right. Still, Ethan blew his teacher's mind early in the school year, before he turned 4, by using the word incarcerated in context. Nice.

I should alse note that Wy Wy was present for this conversation. He wasn't asking that many questions though. He was busy messing with his Dora helmet.

Elder Boy: Dad, Is Mom going to be home when we get home?
Dipshit: No. Mom is at a meeting for work at the Church.
Elder Boy: Why?
Dipshit: The meeting is over at 9pm - I think - so Mom will be home after you guys go to sleep. You'll see Mom in the morning.
Elder Boy: Why?
Dipshit: (Pause to consider what he is asking why about, why will Mom see him in the morning? Why the meeting is over at 9pm? Giving up, I decide to go my normal route and answer a question with a question.) Why what?
Elder Boy: Why is Mom at Church?
Dipshit: Mom is at a meeting at Church for her new job. It is a meeting about racial insensitivity, or something like that.
Elder Boy: Why?
Dipshit: Mommy has a new job and everyone on staff is going to this meeting to hear someone speak on racial insensitivity...
Elder Boy: What is race all in sent ee?
Dipshit: R A C I A L I N S E N S I T I V I T Y. It is a meeting to help people. To stop racism...
Elder Boy: What is race-um.
Dipshit: R A C I S M. Racism is bad. It is when you discriminate against somebody because of their race...their creed...the color of their skin. You treat them bad because they appear different than you. Sometimes people do the same thing because someone believes differently than them. Or has less, or more, money. Lives somewhere else...racism is very bad, Boy.
Elder Boy: Why?
Dipshit: You have brown hair. Right? Imagine if someone didn't like you because you had brown hair. Would that be fair? You can't control what color your hair is, so it would not be very nice for someone to hold that against you. You should never judge a person by the way they look, or by how much money they make or don't make. Or what they do, or where they live. You should just pay attention to how they act, and how they treat you. That's what matters.
Elder Boy: Why?
Dipshit: There is an old saying, never judge a book by the cover. You judge a person by their actions. How they treat you and others.
Elder Boy: Why?

Stopped at a traffic light I look back at the Boy(s) in my kick-ass Daddy rearview mirror thingy (it hooks to the actual rear view mirror so you can look into the back seat and see your kids, without having to turn around and risk crashing your car) and consider how I can explain something as big as racism to them. Do I even fully understand it, or the implications for it? Hell, am I even above it? Sadly, no. Just the other day I was cut off in messaplex traffic. This caused me to nearly crash. My first gut reaction after avoiding the crash was to curse the person who had caused my near miss. She was a lady. What did I say, "You stupid (F Bomb) women." She was a caucausian lady. Thus, I didn't call her a stupid (f bomb racial slur) women, but if she had been a person of color, would I have crossed the line. If my Boy(s) were in the car when it all happened would I behave the same way?

Sweating in traffic at a light, considering the huge ass implications of rearing children, I decided to opt out and again, and do my usual trick to buy some time.

Dipshit: Why what?
Elder Boy: Why is my hair brown.

Nice. Saved by the attention span of a four year old. For now, at least.

Until I BLOG again...Navin, I'd love you if you were the color of a baboon's ass.