The Preschooler is such an earnest little guy, yet he still manages to freak me out sometimes. Grab some popcorn and let’s watch:
Him: What are those things called?
Me: What things?
Him: They’re people.
Him: They look just like us, but they’re brown.
Me: …Uh… (oh, god)
Him: Sometimes they sing. Like in Shrek.
Me: …Urgh… (we’re not in public, are we?)
Him: And you cook them and eat them?
Me: … (oh, shit, what have I been teaching this child?)
Him: Wait, I know. Gingerbread men!
Me: Oh, thank god.
Him: Can we make some?
Me: Yes! RIGHT NOW. I don’t care if it’s March.
Turns out the only racist in this family is me.