Elijah is upstairs napping. Ben and I have draped the ottoman with a towel and are sharing a bowl of Multigrain Cheerios each with our own spoon as we watch the Today Show. It's a sweet little moment as we eat and talk and it makes me happy that I can stay home with him. I look over and tell him that I love him and he dutifully says, "yeah". Then he smiles at me and says no and I tickle him and he laughs.

Then he looks at the tv again and they're doing an interview segment. He says, "I see ladies." I say yes. He says, "I see a black man. Two white ladies and a black man." I say, what? He repeats himself, "two white ladies and a black man".

I'm thinking about my sister in law's kids that are "mixed". I'm envisioining the sibling group that my sister and brother-in-law are in the process of adopting. I'm thinking about the desire of my husband and myself to adopt someday. I know that he's only noticing color, but he's never commented on skin color before and I feel like I should say something profound on a two-year-old level that will program him for a lifetime of acceptance and awareness.

I'm also glad that he's making these statements at home and not loudly in public where I'd really feel like I needed to address an issue that isn't an issue to him it's just a statement that he sees two different colors and nothing more than that, but still...

Of course, Ben is still looking at me, waiting for me to say something because while I've envisioned a lifetime of answers he made the statement only a split second before. So I tell him, "I see the white ladies and the black man, too. God made some people black, and some people white, and some people brown and he loves them all."

I look at Ben to get some clue if this is the "right" answer. Nothing. I look around to see if maybe there's someone wiser, more educated, more aware than I am who can follow up my clumsiness with the comment that will set Ben on the path of diversity. Unfortunately, I'm still the only adult in the room. Ben has resumed eating Cheerios. I look at him and then back at the tv and don't say anything else.

Ben speaks up. "I have white milk and brown cereal. God made it."

And then I remember that he's just two years old and at least it appears that he was listening even if he didn't really understand or can't tell me if he understood. Either way, I remember that I don't have to turn him into the man that I want him to grow up to be between now and naptime. I have many years with him to work on it, and in the meantime I'll be looking for a good book to help me out!