Did you know I was WHITE?

It's a cold Friday evening in January.  I pick up Carter from day care, and as always, the mostly one-sided conversation begins the moment he lays eyes on me.  Mom, mom, mom.  I had a great day!  No melt-downs!  Mom, mom, mom, why do you pick me up so late?  Why can't you pick me up at 4:00?  You used to pick me up at 4:00.  Didn't you mom?  Mom, is your boss so mean that you can't leave mom?  Mom, mom, was traffic so bad mom?  Did you miss me so much mom? 

If I could draw a picture of the scene in cartoon form, you would see a puffy cloud over my head with the starts of words, "Hi Car.., well that's gre.., it's not...well, I jus...No!..."  and so on.  Carter rarely waits for my reply before the next question comes, but you'd better believe he's expecting an answer for each and every question - even if he has to repeat them a dozen times over.  All the while, I'm trying to get him to focus on putting on his coat, hat, and gloves.  "Carter, we need to zip.  Look at your zipper Carter.  Buddy, stop walking and look at your zipper.  Zip your coat.  Honey, focus.  Stop, Carter.  Look at Mommy.  'You need to stop talking for a second and zip your coat.  There.  That's it!'   (Really, you could tape record us tomorrow evening, and I guarantee you'd hear this same deal almost word for word.)

Yes!  We're on our way out the front door of the day care.  Out into the dark, frigid cold January night.  When out of the blue (and barage of questions), "Mom, mom, did you know I was WHITE?  And YOU are WHITE?  And my friend Tamia is BLACK???  Did you know that mom?  Did you know there were schools where only black kids could go?  And only white kids could go to the other school?  Why mom, why did they do that?  Did you know that mom?" 

The rapid fire statements and questions continued, but I stopped listening for a minute to consider what my six year old child just asked me and told me all in the same question/run-on sentence/paragraph.  He had no concept of his "whiteness."  He had no concept of Tamia's "blackness."  None whatsoever.  Carter Ackman was truly experiencing a revelation on a level that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. truly dreamed of. 

I am so grateful that my very precious child was unaware of his "race," and that the concept of segregation was so incredibly alien to him that he had trouble believing it had been a reality.  It made no sense to him whatsoever.  Why would people be separated from one another? 

Throughout that weekend, Carter shared more facts about Dr. King and Rosa Parks, all things he'd learned in Kindergarten from a fifth grade presentation.  "She didn't want to sit on the back of the bus, mom.  Do you like the back of the bus or the front of the bus mom?  When is Dr. Martin Luther King Senior's birthday mom?  Do we get that day off too?  When's the senior's birthday?"

No, Carter, we don't get that day off too.  Let's google it because mommy doesn't know anything about senior.  (And heaven knows we'd better find you some answers!)  And Carter, thank you for making this MLK day mean more to me than any other.