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At the kitchen table

This morning at breakfast, Petra asked me out of the blue, “What’s racist?”

“Hmmm,” I stalled, trying to think of an explanation appropriate for a first-grader. “I suppose it’s if you’re mean to someone or don’t like them because of where they come from or what color their skin is. It’s not nice.”

“I would never do that,” she assured me. “But how do you get more money?”

“What?”

At that point, thank goodness, Tage chimed in from his bedroom. “She means ‘raises’ … like on The Regular Show, when they ask Benson for more money.”

“Oh, well that one’s easier.”

Dang Swedes and their imperfect mastery of the “Z” sound. Gets me every time.

3 thoughts on “At the kitchen table

  1. And a little reminder that when you talk to one child, they are all listening (or at least more than the one you are talking directly to.).

    Perhaps Petra wants a raise. lol

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