Tan.

Him: “I shouldn’t say that. It sounds racist.”
Me: “What’s racist?”
Him: “You know, like black and white.”
Me: “It’s more if one color or race feels like it’s better than another color or race. Like if you felt you were better than black people because you’re white, that would be -
Him: “What? I’m WHITE? What do you mean I’m white?”
[I stop for a moment, considering his freckled day-glo skin and auburn hair]
Me: “What did you think you were?”
Him: “Tan! I thought I was tan!”
Me: “You know what, man? I love your answer so much more. You go on being tan. I think I’m going to be tan, too.”
Him: “Why does everybody talk about black and white, anyway?”
One day I will teach him, but he has already seen far too many disappointing and hateful adults in his nine years. Maybe after a few months of gaining some positive influences from all shades and religions, we will explore that topic a bit more.
For now, I just love the innocence of his answer.