On Ethnic Diversity

In the car this morning, Jeremy asks, “Mom, why isn’t Jackson white? He should be white since we’re brothers and I’m white.”

“You don’t think he’s white?” I ask, skirting the whole Caucasian explanation.

“No,” he answers, as I watch him give Jack a once-over in the rearview mirror, just to make sure, of course. “He’s tan. He’s not white like me.”

“I’m not tan,” Jackson says in his own defense. “I’m pink!”

“Well there ya go,” I say. Jeremy giggles and Jackson rests his case.

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