"We don't like the black guys . . ."

"We don't like the black guys, right daddy?"

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. I was thinking the same thing when that sentence popped out of Sonwun's mouth yesterday. Somehow, somewhere, that phrase is going to come back to haunt me.

I'm not sure when and where, but I know it will. Could be in line at the grocery store checkout, could be at playgroup, could be at preschool, could be at the library, could be at the swimming pool. But it's gonna come back and bite me in the ass.

But it's not my fault. I was only trying to inspire a little national pride. And, even as I wrote that last line, I realized I'd better get explaining things before I dig myself a giant old hole.

We're talking Olympics here. I've been trying to get Sonwun involved, watching, understanding the games, nations, Canadian pride. But on Tuesday night our Canadian pride took a major hit at the hands of the U.S. hockey team.

(For the record, we outplayed them, outshot them, but ran into a smokin' hot goaltender. We should have won. But, bottom line, regardless, is that we lost. Ugh.)

Anyway, Sonwun identifies the teams by colour. We, Canada, are the white guys, the good guys, the ones to cheer for. Sonwun has assigned the title "the black guys" to Team U.S.A., based on the dark colour of their jerseys. And they are the bad guys.

And thus, when the U.S. went up against the Swiss yesterday, Sonwun took a look at the two teams on the ice— the Swiss in white and the U.S. in dark blue— and checked with me before cheering.

"We don't like the black guys, right daddy?"

"Um, right buddy. But we call them Team U.S.A. We are Team Canada. And those guys in white there are Team Switzerland."

"The white guys?"

"The guys with the white shirts, yes."

"But we don't like the black guys. They're bad."

"Well, they're not bad, they're just on the other team; Team U.S.A."

I still have some work to do here before I allow Sonwun out in public again.

When I'm writing, I have the time to explain the situation. I'm not sure I'd have the opportunity to explain it to someone in line at the grocery store before accusations and fists started flying.

Anyhoo, we didn't have to worry about this in the Canada-Russia game. And, by the way, WAHOOOOO! Nothing brings out the beast in a Canadian hockey team like a game against Russia. Here's hoping the momentum can carry our boys on through to the gold.

But I digress.

Today is preschool day and I'm a little worried the topic of the Olympics may come up and Sonwun will feel the need to share his new-found wisdom.

I must de-program him this morning. Teach him, among other things, the difference between dark blue and black and the difference between the phrases "the guy in the black shirt" and "the black guy."

The nice thing here, I suppose, is that he doesn't understand why it would make a difference. He doesn't understand racism. Why would he? These things are taught, they are not inherent.

Maybe I'll just put the de-programming on hold. Children have no trouble with children of other races. To them, it just doesn't matter, doesn't really even register. Children are children. People are people and the only difference, to Sonwun anyway, is the colour of their jersey in a game.

It's a good way of looking at things. Who needs de-programming? The kids or the adults?

Happy Thursday! And GO CANADA!