FHE went REALLY well last night. My kids always amaze me with how much they understand. We discussed good choices, then the conversation took a turn to forgiveness. Did you know God ALWAYS forgives you if you ask for it? My boys are awesome. They told me God is like a mom, he loves you no matter what. Boys rock. We talked a lot about CTR in context with things that happen at school (i.e. bullying and using foul language). I was expecting ResponsiBoy to have some issues with this, because we had a rocky start to Kindergarten at our local public school this year. I have to preface this story with…ResponsiBoy’s teacher and principal are AWESOME, I have all the faith in the world in them. Well, now I do, at the time, I wondered a little.
Our decision to send ResponsiBoy to public school was based on his race. Yes, I said it. We wanted him to go to school with other African-American children. In our city, the private schools are all run by the Catholic Church, whom I feel VERY distant from, and, well, there just aren’t a lot of African-American members. ResponsiBoy needs to fit in, he’s not the kind of kid who thrives on being the center of attention for ANY reason (unlike Middle-Middle). So, we thought he would blend in. Well, he doesn’t. He is the only kid in his class who is African-American and not low income. Bummer. So, there are some behavior issues that we knew we would have to deal with. He came home the first week and confessed that his sack lunch, the one I had lovingly filled with treats all week, had been stolen every day. He was told it was because he “should have to eat school lunch, because he’s black”. This came from another African-American child. We talked about bullying, making good choices, and then I called the school and turned the little punk in. By the way, ResponsiBoy had no idea he was “black”. He refers to himself as “brown” or African-American. Oops. I guess that conversation was overdue. But, that’s how innocent our boy is. Then, the second week of school, ResponsiBoy, our innocent little man, came home and greeted me with…”Whaddup Muddah f’er!” Only the whole word came out. My whole world went into slow motion. I turned to him and said as calmly as possible “WHHAAAT DIIIID YOOOUUUU SAAAYYYY?”. He explained that he was greeting me, I am his mother after all. Begin conversation #2 about naughty words, and what people think of you when you say those words, and how God doesn’t like to hear those words. Done. He was so sad and never said it again. So I didn’t make ANY kind of big deal about it.
So, last night, as we’re discussing CTR, ResponsiBoy pipes up with “don’t EVER call your mom a Muddah F’er. It doesn’t mean what you think”. No, no it doesn’t. Oh my gosh.