Whitey

"That is a white baby!"

This was the greeting I got as I sat down on the bus with Eliot on my chest, in the Ergo carrier, yesterday. The gentleman who said this was two seats to my left, and was friendly, if overly blunt. He was not white. He looked Latin American, maybe, but with a large hooked nose that looked more eastern European.

Me: Yup, he's really white.
(Eliot was staring at this guy. The guy smiled, and Eliot smiled back.)
Guy: Like really white.
Me: Yup.
Guy: Is his dad that white?
Me: Yup, his dad is that white too.
Guy: Are you English, or Irish, or ...?
Me: Yeah, English, Scottish, Swedish, and some other stuff.
Guy: Huh.

Pretty funny. Can you imagine if Eliot and I were black?

Guy: That is a really black baby!
Me: Yup.
Guy: Like really black.
Me: Yup
Guy: Is his dad that black?

etc etc

As an aside, Eliot LOVES riding the bus. He says it is SO much cooler than riding in the car. First of all, in the car he has to sit in a car seat, in the back, by himself, facing backwards. How many people like to ride backwards? Who picks backwards on the train? And while he has toys to play with, and sometimes the dogs are back there with him, it is LONELY. On the bus, on the other hand, he is in the Ergo on mom or dad's chest, right up close. We get to walk to and from the bus stop, which is fun. And there are lots of interesting people to look at on the bus, and most of them smile at me and ask my mom how old I am. So much attention.