As the pot called the kettle...

October is swooshing by and I can hardly stand it. I simple must get a few more bike rides in before the rain and snow begin to fall with greater regularity but it's getting harder to make the time to do that now that I am working.


I mentioned in an earlier post - here - that I might begin a new job working with children. At that time, I was unsure as to how to style a required tee for the uniform into an appropriate look for a lady of my stature (so to speak). I first tried it in a basic and pure form. Not cute at all. After several iterations, I figured out my that the best way for me to give the legible tee some dignity is to pair it with a khaki or denim knee length skirt or black slim legging/pant and a woven button front skirt underneath the tee. As Dionne said to Cher in Clueless - "Not a total Betty but a vast improvement."  I wear a belt and coordinating shoes with pearl studs and I think this is probably as good as it gets...until I splash bleach water or baby formula on one of my new "work skirts."

I have worked several shifts and I think things are going well. I have a few ideas for improving processes/environment; but, am reluctant to offer them until I'm asked or sometime in January - whichever comes first. Nobody likes the arrogance of some random "new kid on the block" who thinks she knows everything and tries to implement changes straight away.

So, I had an odd and unexpected experience the other day. As background, you should know that I am an american who's probably of african descent whose skin this time of year is about the color of an ordinary cup of cafe au lait.

Image courtesy of momandtinas.com

Imagine my surprise when an adorable little towheaded boy of about 3 years noticed my presence in the room. He began staring at me with wide hazel eyes and eyebrows raised with concern (read: horror). He finally approached me as I sat on the floor with a few children whom I was guiding through strategies on how to assemble more challenging puzzles. He sat on the perimeter of our group then moved in close and the following exchange took place:

Boy Toddler whispers at me: "Your bwack."

Me: "Oh. It's okay. I'm okay, Sweetie, my back doesn't hurt. I'm fine."

Boy Toddler whispers as little louder, touching his face with his own fingertips, not blinking and turned down corners on his mouth: "No. You're a bwack."

(I just now get that he is saying "You're Black." Hmmm, this is an interesting situation.)

Me (letting out a sigh with a smile): "Oh. Yes. Some people call this skin color "black." We can call it black but really it's more of a brown, don't you think?"

Me (continuing with a smile because he still looked a wee bit frightened/confused.): "Oh but I love it. It's just right for me. It's soft and pretty and it keeps my insides in. (I chuckle.) It really is quite wonderful!"

Boy relaxing a bit: "Why bwack?" 

Me: Well, both of my parents had skin color kind of like this. It's cool. My whole family has it.

Boy fully relaxed: "Why?"

Me: "Because that's what happens in families. They sometimes look alike."

Boy no longer interested in conversation. Resumes playing.

I wonder if I handled that in the best possible way. I wonder if I made a difference in that kid's life. I think maybe I did. I wonder if the parents would approve. I hope so.

Also, is it weird that I really want a cup of cafe au lait, now?