a 5 yr old black boy and race…

I picked up my shorty from some artsy/fartsy event this past Saturday afternoon.  He hops in the car – in the car seat - buckles himself in and…

[Car starts.  We rollin'. Ipod beats kick in thru car stereo.  Afro-Peruvian mix.  Volume low.]

Me:  You had a good time homie?

Son:  “Yeah!!! It was funnn!!!”

Me:  What did y’all do?

Son: “I dunno. A lot.”

Me: Okay.  Well did you…

Son: “Oh yeah, someone came to sing.”

Me:  That’s Cool.

Son: “Dad, do you know who it was?”

***I worked in the music/concert biz for years.  My son thinks I know any and everyone that sings***

Me:  Well, I need a little more info homie.  Was it a man or a woman?

Son: “A dude.”

Me: Do you remember his name?

Son: “Nope.”

Me:  What kind of music did he play?

Son:  “I dunno.  He had a guitar.”

Me:  Was he White or Black?

Son: “Uhmmm, kinda light-peach I think.”

Me: [In a faint whisper] Wowww…

Random Joints #1: kidz and fast-food joints

My 1st post comes in the form of a tempered rant.  To all my parents out there with shorties under the age of 7: When you go to a Potbelly’s or Subway (or any fast-food joint), please don’t let your child/toddler tell the “sandwich artist” what ingredients/condiments to put on the sandwich. You know damn well shorty can’t handle that pressure yet.  More oft than not, kids in this situation just freeze up, or at best, they hold up the line while goin’ back and forth with moms/pops about what’s what on the condiment/ingredient menu.  That shit ain’t cute.  Look, I’ve got shorties.  I know what parents are trying to do here, but this is not the best occasion to teach your child how to be a big-boy or big-girl.  Do that on your own damn time.  Not in line at a FAST-food joint.

Later;

K