Racin' to a schoolin'

A few mornings ago, my 6 yr old kid Lula and her friend were discussing ‘family’ on the drive to school.  They discovered that they both have cousins from Edmonton named Mackenzie, then Lula decides to discuss RACE and was like, “my Mom’s side is Chinese, and my dad’s side is……(she trails off,  tries a different approach)…see, like, my mom is Chinese and my dad is….” she looks at me, like HELP A GIRL OUT HERE MA, WHAT DO I CALL HIM???  so I say the only thing that seems correct, after I rifle through the different terminology in my head (Caucasion…nawww, I’ve always hated that word…sounds like an Asian on coke anyways, and I hear my mom’s voice saying it in her funny Britishy South African accent…and anyways, I’ve never heard a white dude call himself caucasion…. But you see, I can’t say Canadian, because I’m Canadian, and that’s not the distinction she wants.   I consider, Scottish, Finnish, Nordic something or other from a billion generations ago,  but he doesn’t even come close to considering himself that, being like, 4th gen Canadian, I don’t want to say MUTT, like I’m thinking, and White Canadian?…nawww, so I just blurt out “A white boy.”  Both 6 year olds laugh out loud and we all get it.  Yep, he’s most definitely that.

It’s a funny thing, this multicultural melting pot thing we have here in North America.  So many different cultures, so many pockets of different kinds of people that live here.  Some mix with other cultures, some don’t.  Me, I’m a mixer, I’ve always been curious about other people and how they live, the food they eat and the rituals they have.  More and more it’s apparent that while we all have our surface differences, we all have the same human drive: to love and be loved, to be seen, to be heard and somehow, to express ourselves.

Later that day, I asked my husband Grant if this was the right terminology I used. What do you want Lula to refer to you as, I asked.  She needs a term.  Well, turns out I was right on the money with the Caucasions-don’t-call-themselves-caucasions instinct, and no mutt wants to be called a mutt, it’s just too mutty,  so WHITE BOY it is.  It’s just right.

On a totally different tangent: It’s my birthday today, and one year ago, on my living room floor, my son and I did the dance of birth on my birthday, so it’s also my darling boy Max’s VERY FIRST BIRTHDAY.  Happy birthday Max, and Happy birthday Me.