And I'm not talking about the snow. Both of these conversations occurred in the past week:
At the dinner table:
Sebastian: (apropos of nothing) You know what? People can be mutts, too.
Me: (Dreading what is surely coming next) Hmm?
S: You know... like if they have one white parent and one parent with black skin.
M: You are never allowed to call a person a mutt!
An overreaction, perhaps. A lengthy discussion followed regarding the fact that he also would be a "mutt" due to his French-Canadian, Irish, British, Eastern European, etc. heritage, but that it was an unpleasant term to use about a person.
Tuesday, picking Sebastian up from his after school program:
Me: (Noticing a fancy sequined scarf a girl is holding) Wow! That is very sparkly!
Girl: (Who happens to be black) It's just a scarf. A Hannah Montana scarf.
M: Well, it's very cool.
Dorian: (Gleefully) Mama, my skin is white!
The rational part of me recognizes that they are just making observations no different than "my shirt is red" or "the sky is blue" or that they are just trying to make sense of a new word and how it could be applied to something other than, say, dogs. (Wait until they learn that Daddy has also been "neutered".)
The irrational part of me, however, wants to scream "We're not racist!" and run from the room, dragging my blond-haired, blue-eyed boy behind me.