On the way to school this morning, Thelonious asked me a question. “Dad, what’s the name of that guy at the comic book store?”
“No, the other one.”
“I think it’s Panda. But, I don’t know if it’s Panda or just something that sounds like Panda.”
“Panda is kind of a cool name… It’s also kinda weird.”
“Ya. And, I don’t even know if it’s his real name or a nickname.”

At this point, Ione chimed in.
“Well, since he has brownish skin, maybe it’s Pandaria!”

Thelonious and I burst into laughter. “Ione, what are you talking about?!?!?”
“I don’t know! But, do you know what it’s called when a Panda has a diarrhea? … PANDARIA!!!!”

Here’s the point. My kids are in 2nd and 4th grades, respectively – and, they don’t have a clue about race. I think it’s a pretty amazing and beautiful thing. They live in a neighborhood with African-Americans, Africans, Mexican-Americans, Native Americans, and Asian-Americans. But, they consider skin color absolutely random. One of Ione’s best friends is adopted – a Korean girl with two white parents. For the life of him, Thelonious could not figure out how I knew she was adopted. In my kids’ world, there is no Black, White, Asian, or Indian. Instead, we’re all the same thing and some people are just more or less brownish than others – the same way some of their friends have red hair or green eyes.

And, here’s the other point. Poo is almost always funny.