Not as long as I'm your Mamma!

There is a certain challenge to raising a bi-racial child in any community.  Our little acres in the Cornfield are pretty much no exception to that.  There is no denying, though, that my 6yr old has been raised around more white folks than black folks, simply because his "father" and his family made a choice not to be part of Elijah's life pretty much from jump.  He has one aunt and a great-grandfather on that side who see him when they feel like it.  But I'm not trynna get into the whole absentee daddy debate with this post.  What I'm talkin' bout today is foolishness, grills, buffoonery and stereotypes and how the heck you explain that to a kid.  Especially to one whose exposure to positive role models from half of his cultural heritage is lacking.  This is my fault, and I know it, and I promise, I'm working on changing that.  But back to the matter at hand....

It all starts with the gumball machines at the doggone China Buffet.  There is boollsheet and junk of every description in those machines.  Temporary tattoos, miniature animals, bouncy balls, stickers, even some gum (yeah, I kno, right!). But the one that is perpetually the bane of my existence is the machine with all the cheap, cheezy, plastic "bling!"  My optimal solution would just be don't give the child any change for the machines.  Which would work except for one thing:  Mai Zhi.  She's the hostess/co-owner of the place.  She loves my kid.  She fixes his plate, sits by him in the booth and gives him all the attention the lil playa could want... and the worst part is... she lets him take quarters out of the register for the dang machines! I've tried to talk to her about this, but there's a definite language barrier exacerbated by her apparent ultra-sensitive vulnerability to the boy's puppy eyes.  *He makes cute puppy eyes, but I been and got immune to those jawns!*   So, the chick continues to make it rain on my boy...  

Well, one day, outta the dreaded "bling" machine, drops a fake "platinum" grill.  Uh-oh.  He's seen just enough of Lil Jon, Plies and Weezy to associate metal teeth with the beats he likes so much.  I won't front, if I don't have to listen to what Lil Jon is yellin' about or look at him, the music is arrite.  But the point is, I don't want my son equating grills, pimp cups, bedazzled shades and buffoonery with the epitome of cool.  I'm just not havin' it!  My child will not look like a middle ground between T-Pain and Paul Wall!  He will not be the place where Bubba Sparxx meets Plies! NO! I say, NO!  

So I start thinking, I'mma try explaining to the child why that ish just isn't the hotness.... But he counters with the whole, "I thought you liked hip hop, Mamma," thing.  Which leads to the need to give a crash course on hip hop vs hype.  Fail.  So then I start trying to explain stereotypes. FailFail.  And he must be just tooooooo sheltered, because he seemed genuinely amazed at the whole concept of racism.  FailFailFail.  

I Tweeted about my dilemma and @internalquest lol'd me and told me to let it go, coz the boy just won't get it.  I won't be able to circumvent the Master Teacher, Professor Experience.  I was gettn nowhere, dropping it was my last viable option.  So that's what I did.... for now.  But I also threw the damn "grill" in the trash. 

And like I told @internalquest, if the child comes up in my house one of these days lookin like a miniature, light skinned YingYang Twin, I'm fittna revoke his birth certificate!

Zach and Cody have rotted my brain....

As the title of this post implies, I have been subjected to way too much Disney Channel lately.  My wonderful 6yr old son has somehow come to the conclusion that Zach and Cody are the penultimate in all things cool.  I beg to differ, but somehow my opinion is consistently disregarded in this matter.

I never intended to let the boy get too into television.  My rationale?  Having always had a weight problem myself, I didn't want the kid to be encouraged to be a couch potato.  Besides, there is precious little on TV that he would like that I can stand to watch also.  And he's a really active kid... soccer, baseball, guitar lessons, playing outside with the neighborhood kids, all of that.  But he has developed an infallible sixth sense... he feels it in his bones when Zach and Cody are on the tube.

Their hotel (now cruise ship--who lives on a cruise ship??) hijinx are as irritating to me as a splinter under a fingernail.  I have an irrational aversion to these little blonde moppets.  I can't even tell you why I have such antipathy toward these kids.  Maybe it's because you can see the plotline coming a mile away.  Maybe it's because they play the cute card until I scream for mercy.  Maybe it's because the show just plain blows.  I dunno... but I can't stand it anymore.

They make me want to pull an Elvis and shoot up the TV.  

Oh, HELL NAW, he didn't!!!

In the interest of fairness, let me first say, the boy has had a rough month. First there was a parent-teacher conference about "less talking, more working" with Mrs. Beard. Then the tummy troubles and trips to the doctor to work out that issue. Then, and probably most profoundly upsetting, the death of his lil' girlfriend, Ashanti.  And finally, yesterday he busted up his lip falling off a skateboard at the neighbor's house.  

But today, I was forced to the conclusion that my son has gone out his natural mind!!

What prompts this conclusion, you might ask?  Well, lemme tell ya.......

It started out as a pleasant Sunday morning.  We got up, got showered and dressed and took ourselves to Church.  When we got to Church, there were the usual members of the congregation there, as well as a few visitors.  Visitors with children.  Lots and lots of children.  Wonderful.....  the babies need Jesus in their lives.

Now, I make Eli stay in the sanctuary with me until after Children's Church.  He is always well behaved, and he loves to sing even if he doesn't know the hymns (he's always on his own tangent during the music).  Well, these new children were not so much well behaved.  Fortunately, they were seated a comfortable distance away from us.  However, when the kiddos were called forward for Children's Church, all sorts of tomfoolery ensued.

These kids acted like they didn't know how to sit still or pay attention....  and our usually attentive, know-the-routine "regulars" started actin' like THEY were new!!  Well, I caught the boy's attention in short order, and shot him straight in his forehead with 

"THE LOOK,"

then held up two fingers--not two fingas, like deuces, 

TWO FINGERS, like this yo second strike, child!!!

The child looked at me like he was estimating the distance between my pew and the dias they were all on, then from the dias to the door.  I could all but hear his thoughts!!!  "Yeah....  I can make it to that door before she gets to me...."  He was givin' serious thought to makin' a dash!  Well, Pastor didn't have sense to realize these hooligans had done got out of pocket until one of the "newbies" knocked over the flag.  At this point, all of the mothers of the "regulars" moved as a single well-maintained mind!  We had the doors and aisles covered and were closing in.

As expected, the children scattered, but to no avail.  There was no escape.  And then, it happened......

I took hold of my son's arm, proceeding to march him back up the aisle to await judgement. I used all three of his Christian names and his Surname, "Elijah Michael Adam C******, you sit your narra little behind in this pew and DON'T YOU MAKE A SOUND!"  As I turned to go help gather the rest of the hoodlums, I hear from my son's mouth:

"KISS MY BUTT, MOM!!"

WHAT????!!!!!????

I swear on every episode of Aqua Teen Hunger Force and Ray-J's ho's that time stopped.  The sanctuary was silent except for the gasp of horror and expectation that the congregation voiced as a single entity.  I turned, sighted my target, and slowly but deliberately closed in.  Some other mamma was gonna hafta clean up the rest.  I had bizness to handle.

The boy's eyes as I approached betrayed his desire to run for his raggedy lil' life, but as the doors were too far away,  he recognized that this was no longer a viable option.  This time, as I got hold of his arm, I felt the trembling of a child who knew, beyond any shadow of doubt that he had GONE TOO FAR!

I won't describe ensuing events.  Let's leave it at this....  he's lucky he still has sleeves!! And, no, I don't think Jesus is mad at me for it.  Jesus didn't ever pop off to his mamma like that, so I don't expect He intends for me to put up with that kinda nonsense.

As for the boy, I wish he would try some mess like that again..... hrumph!!