On a Lighter Note, Ages Ago…

My six-year old engaged me once in what I thought was a profound discussion. He wanted to know why I divorced my first wife (not his mother). Well, what do you say to a six-year old?   Trying to find the right words, I began by saying that we didn’t get along.

He asked why? Trying to be a responsible adult, I refrained from saying my first wife was a selfish bitch…Instead, I continued with the fact that we saw things differently and that sometimes when two people don’t get along very well, it’s best for them to separate. He then continued with: “Why didn’t you get along?” I thought for a minute without being able to respond to this six-year old “prosecutor.”

He probably got tired of waiting and proceeded to ask where my ex-wife was. I said in Texas.   He then asked whether I lived in Texas. I said no, and indicated that I lived in Chicago when we were married. Upon hearing “Chicago,” the conversation ended with his very next questions: “Did you see the Chicago Bulls?”, “How about the Cubs?” “Did you meet Michael Jordan?” No, no and no. It was this same son of mine who at age three, made his mother’s day when he was beginning to read, by explaining to her that “MOM” is spelled “WOW!”

My nine-year old had an encounter with her mother who decided to experiment on her with a new child’s hairdo at the hairdresser. Actually, it was the hairdresser who suggested the idea. My daughter didn’t like the outcome of the experiment and began to cry saying that the new hairdo made her look like a “puffed-up clown.” Her mother reassured her that she meant no harm and would immediately reverse the experiment by wetting her hair as soon as they returned home. She continued by saying: “You know your Mom wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

Still crying, my nine-year-old replied with: “Do you mean physically or mentally!?”

When she was about a year-and-a-half or so, she and her baby-sitter’s son were severely reprimanded for soaking each other with water from the garden hose. As the baby-sitter dried their clothes and dressed them in fresh garments, she continued to scold them for their behavior. It was perhaps no more than ten minutes later when my daughter and her playmate were again caught as they prepared themselves for a repeat performance.

My daughter had the garden hose in her hands presumably thinking about giving her companion another bath as the baby-sitter approached her. Knowing the predicament she got into earlier, she immediately turned to her younger friend and said, “Your turn,” as she handed him the incriminating garden hose.

And there is more, when she was four years of age, she was overheard lecturing her two year old brother on how God was watching him, and that God didn’t like what he did (whatever it was). She told him that God lives in heaven with Jesus. Her brother immediately replied: “And all dogs go to heaven,” quoting from a movie he had seen earlier.

Will the innocence represented by these examples turn into racial rage when they become more aware of the society in which we live? There is much to be taught, more to be learned.