Colors with Kale

My child made me nervous the other day.  I always imagined he would be good at making me nervous, but I always figured he would be a daredevil and never imagined it would be his mouth causing the anxiety.  My parents are laughing right now.  You can probably hear them rolling in laughter from wherever you are reading this.  I soooo had this coming. 

I went to Kale's daycare (school) to pick him up early for a dr's appointment.  There are two teacher in his room.  One of them asked what doctor he was going to see.  Without missing a beat, he said "the black doctor".  I tried really hard to pick my chin up off the floor while also trying to figure out where that even came from.  I should pause here to tell you that it seems that about 95% of the staff at his day care are African American.  Both of Kale's teachers are undeniably African American.  Can you see where this is going yet? 

The teacher teased him and said he couldn't even talk to her anymore.  We all know that he wouldn't give three flying monkeys if she said he could talk to her or not, because he would still talk to her anyway.  So then she asks him what color am I?  This is where I wanted to run from the room or hide under the table or maybe just go throw up in one of the classroom's mini-toilets.  Instead, I just stood there alternating between a stutter and silence as I took it all in.  My head spun.  Surely, at two, he does not yet recognize race.  He just looked at the teacher and seemed a little confused.  Whew.  Or maybe not.  She asked him if she was black or white.  He answered black.  Uh-oh.  This is when my efforts to get him out of that room and out the door really kicked into gear. 

Then she asked him what color his other teacher was.  He looked straight at the other teacher and said "Vivi is orange."

She is very visibly NOT orange.  I started to regain some of my dignity and composure and even a little bit of hope that my child is still "race blind".  Both teachers tried really hard not to fall out of their chairs laughing.  I gathered his little bohiney up and we scooted out the door. 

Why is it always ME that is around him when he says this kind of stuff?  Doesn't his daddy have at least a little bit of paying for his raising to do in the mouth department?  I guess not.  Yep, thats all me.