An Almost 4 Year Old

The Boy will be four tomorrow.

Four.

In human years.

He is inquisitive and energetic and exhausting. He is reflective and funny and smart. He is outgoing and determined and friendly and independent.

When he gets nervous he gets silly, and when he gets silly he uses made up words. He brings home leaves in his pockets and says they are special because his friend gave them to him. He is a great big brother and every night he thanks God for BeYoYo and no one else. He's obsessive about them wearing matching clothes and is disappointed when they can't.

He calls tank tops "tick tocks", and he knows the names of all the ninja turtles: Michaewangewo, Weonardo, Donatewwo, and Wafeal. He says he weawwy, weawwy woves us, and that he loves his brother the most. That's okay with me.

He makes increasingly more valid arguments about why he should or shouldn't do things. He pees outside. He appreciates a good meal. He's good at soccer, but sometimes he runs into the refrigerator at home. He eats at least two breakfasts every day.

His favorite movie is "Hoy Story." He still lets me rock him before bed while we read a book.  He asks big, big questions about the world and God and life, some that I don't know the answer to.

His favorite toys are Super Heroes and he loves to wear a cape. He plays dress up and makes up wild imaginary scenarios with many, many sound effects. He gets in trouble for playing too rough at school. He watches Curious George, The Wot Wots, and bizarre shows he's found on Netflix. He's mastered the ipad. He knows how to take a selfie. His favorite songs are Queen's Flash and We Will Rock You.

Tonight I continued our tradition of asking him some questions on his birthday, like I did last year. Here is what he said.

                                                                How old are you? 

"Free and a half, almost four"

What’s your favorite thing to do? 

"say 'SORRY' (in a monster voice) with Henry"

What do you want to be when you grow up? 

"I don't want to grow up"

What’s your favorite food? 

"butter noodles"

What’s something you’re good at? 

"riding my scooter"

What makes you laugh? 

"tickle my foot"

What’s something scary?

"I'm gonna die"

Who’s your best friend? 

"Henry. And Nate."

What do you like to do with your family? 

"pway with them"

Where do you like to go? 

"I wove to spend the night at the cabin."

What do you like to learn about? 

"how do people die"

This morning we were talking about his birthday and he said "I'm going to be four when I wake up tomorrow. Do you think I'll be too heavy for my wittle bed?"

He has challenged me in ways I could never have imagined, and expanded my heart in ways I didn't know possible. I'm so thankful for the energy and the joy and the life lessons he's brought in the last four years.

Black and white

I am heavy with worry on this one. I am sad for the families of the victims of the Charleston church shooting. I am sad for the black mamas across the nation who worry every time their sons leave home that they will not return. I am sad for those who are not sad about this, and I'm afraid that means we are becoming tolerant and complacent about racism. I'm afraid it's easy to deny that it exists because it is 2015 and it's been more than 50 years since MLK had a dream.

As my sons grow up, I will worry if there are pesticides in their foods, and if they do their homework and drive carefully. I won't worry about their safety if they wear hoodies into gas stations, or get stopped at traffic stops or if someone they don't know comes to their prayer meetings.  I worry that I don't remember often enough that this is a reality for many people. I'm ashamed I forget the luxury I was dealt when, through no choice of my own, I was born with ivory skin.

The Husband and I had a long talk about racism today. Though he doesn't like what happened in Charleston or across the country lately, he doesn't understand why it would make me cry, or why I feel a heaviness about it for my own children. I asked him "how do we raise children who not only don't hurt others because of the color of their skin, but also don't tolerate it, and work to stop it from happening?" His response was "maybe you model that." Yes, yes, yes.  But have we been modeling that? We don't hurt others, but do we work to stop it from happening? Maybe tolerance is not enough.

He asked me why this made me cry more than another killing would. Why, say, didn't I cry about the Boston marathon bombing? Valid question. I had to think before I responded "I'm sad about any time anyone is killed because of religion or race, but I think this feels different because this was committed by someone from our race, and I feel a responsibility to do better for our race." Maybe it's easier to face hatred coming from an Islamist extremist than someone who could be my child.

We talk about race at our house. The Boy knows that people have different color skin, and that the rule of our family is that we love people no matter how they look. But he doesn't know that some families don't have that rule. And if we think that modeling intolerance of injustice is the place to start, maybe that means my kids need to know that injustice exists.

So today I sat down with The Boy and told him that in Charleston, in the city that our friend lives, someone hurt some other people just because they had brown skin. I told him that I knew he knew that our family loves people no matter what color skin they have, but that some families don't have that rule. I told him it is not okay to hurt others or say unkind things to them because of the color of their skin, and that he and his brother should always work to protect others if someone is hurting them. I told him through tears that this made me very, very sad, and that the people that were hurt were good people. He asked if the one who hurt them would go to jail, and I told him yes, because what he did is not okay. We talked about the importance of not just not hurting others, but standing up for them and helping them.

I don't pretend that telling my child about racism is the key to stopping it. I don't pretend that blogging about my feelings helps any of the victim's families find peace. I wish I knew an answer. I wish I knew of something that I could do to change the pattern, to stop the hate. But I do think that talking about it, and claiming intolerance for it is the first small step I can take. And I hope to model for my children to love and protect our friends of all races, because tolerance isn't enough. May no one wonder where I stand.

And as much as I worry, I am grateful to know that so many of you out there stand with me in solidarity, wanting to do something, wanting to stop the hate and the violence. I pray we come up with something more than words. Until then, here are some words from Dr. King's I Have A Dream speech that resonate again today: 

"We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children."