Last night as we were walking to the car from the daycare, Deaglan pointed to a truck in the Daycare’s driveway and said Look Mommy, a truck. And when I asked him what colour the truck was he replied correctly that it was red.
As I was buckling him in, he pointed to one of the student teachers and said Look Mommy it’s Sarah. And I said, Oh yeah, there’s Sarah.
Then he stumped me.
What colour is Sarah Mommy? He asked.
I know that he didn’t really mean it the way it sounded. I know that he was mimicking the question I had asked him earlier but I truly did not know how to answer him. In fact I didn’t want to answer him. It made me feel really uncomfortable just thinking about putting a label on her.
I wondered, not for the first time since having a child, whether this too was nature, nurture or a bit of both.
I tried to recall if there was a definitive moment in my life where I remember noticing someone’s skin colour. I wrote a bit about it here but really my life has been so different than Deaglan’s will surely be.
What colour do you think Sarah is? I asked.
Blue. He said.
I left it at that.