Adoption of babies from China is complicated because of their laws. Girl children generally come from orphanages and you essentially are tagging which ones you want. China’s lack of females means that they try to encourage mother’s to raise girls. It also takes several trips back and forth. It was easier for one of us to go than both or the whole family so I was at home with the boys, weeks on end sometimes having insane dinner discussions. They had secretly been instructed to distract me from worrying—-especially at dinner—-which they said so much that I eventually understood that had been the instruction but they had turned it into a game.
Two, as a teacher I think it’s important, to be honest with them about language and usage and particularly about race but also to have discussions about words—-which has created more messes in private and public.
They were about 8 and 10.
About Three Combined Dinner Conversations
“Where’s Efe? Why is he taking so long? He’s going to miss my softball games. We play every Saturday a new school each month. Next month, Dad, he better hurry up. Ouch. Don’t kick me, dummy,” Mateo snapped at Harry over the dinner table. “Dad, he kicked me.”
“It was a signal, dummy.”
“A signal for what? That you were going to kick me? That’s stupid.”
“No, to shut up. You’re so dense.”
“Dad, if I’m not allowed to punch Harry in the head to wake him up, or drool on him, or try to pee on him when he’s in the tub then he can’t kick me at dinner, right? Fair is fair.”
“Stop with the fair. We live on Earth not Fair, right, Poppa?” Harry smiled.
“Correct, Harry. There is no such mature concept as fair. But there is justice. Mateo, stop trying to pee on people.”
“CB does it. I read in a book that dogs do it to mark their spots. I’m just trying to mark Harry.”
“Why would you want to mark me?”
“So you know who’s in charge, son.”
“Poppa, do you see what I put up with? He’s crazy in the head. I deserve extra allowance money for not beating him with his baseball bat.”
“I see, Harry, I see. He’s not crazy, he’s unique in his outlooks. He was trying to signal you, Mateo that I’m worried about Efe in China and not to talk about it. To not bring it up. To not upset me.”
“Oh. Then why didn’t you just say that Harry? Geez.”
“That’s what a signal is for, dummy, so you don’t have to say it.”
“Whatever. Dad, don’t worry Efe told us to take care of you until he got back. He’s probably eating good Chinese food and talking all ling-ling Chinese to the people and buying shoes while he waits for the babies to be cleaned and wrapped to travel.”
“Okay, number one, you can’t say ethnically insensitive things like ling ling. Especially with two sisters who are Asian. It’s not right. Two, cleaned and wrapped? What does that even mean?”
“Yeah, on the internet they showed babies coming out of a ladies vajayjay and it was all slimy and bloody and covered in crap---not garbage---crap crap. From her butt. The nurse takes a baby away, cleans off the crap---the real crap---and wraps it up and will give her to Efe. It’s probably taking longer because it’s two of them. They have to rest the vajayjay for a few days before they can push out a new one. The lady said it’s a lot of work,” Mateo explained proudly, waving his arms widely like a conductor.
“You don’t have to keep saying crap, Mateo. Feces. We know what you mean. I’m not sure about you saying vajayjay either.”
“That’s how babies come out, right, Poppa? I saw it in the baby book too. They come out of the vajayjay, right? Vajayjay isn’t a bad word, they say it on TV, not cable but regular TV. I don’t use bad words, especially at dinner. Right, Mateo, right they say vajayjay?”
“Yes, Dad, vajayjays are everywhere. All the girls at school have one, all the lady teachers too, in fact, if you’re a woman you have a vajayjay. I heard you can even buy a vajayjay if you’re born a boy and want to stop being one and become a girl. You’re a train-sex because you used to stop at one station and now with your new vajayjay you stop at a new one.”
“Ok, you don’t mean train-sex.”
“Poppa, can I get a vajayjay and change it on the A train? I like the subway. Like when it goes by the paintings underground and all the colors go by. I’d sure like to have a vajayjay when that happens.”
“No, Harry, you can’t have a vajayjay.”
“Not even for my birthday?”
“No, not even for your birthday. It’s not train-sex. It’s transsexual. Sex is male or female, boy or girl, remember? A transsexual is transitioning---prefix of a word---trans and changing their sex. A transsexual. Do you understand?”
“That sounds really gay, Dad. Like when the men dress up like girls at the gay parade, when they do the drag singing.”
“Like RuPaul’s Drag Race? That’s funny. You better work, Poppa.”
“No, no, no. They aren’t transsexuals. Well, maybe. Or they’re transgenders.”
“What’s the difference, Dad? Being on TV? Does that make you a transsexual and want a vajayjay?”
“No, a transgender hasn’t changed their body but they feel like a girl inside. Just like you feel like a boy inside.”
“How do I know if I feel like a girl or a boy inside, Poppa?”
“Let’s table trans talk for a while and get back to the babies. Explain what you mean by clean and wrapped, Mateo. You can use the word vajayjay if you have to. I didn’t expect you to know it so specifically, Mateo. We need to review your internet privileges.”
“I learn a lot on the internet, Dad. But if you’re cool with vajayjay then it’s no fun anymore to say it. There’s lots of crap when a baby is born. Lots and lots and lots of crap. Everywhere. There’s crap everywhere, Dad, the table, the bed, the baby, the doctors, miles and miles and pounds and pounds of crap.” Mateo was waving his arms widely again.
“Were we covered in crap, Poppa? Pounds of it?”
“Feces. Yes, that’s the scary part of childbirth. Use proper words, both of you. Not crap. Feces. I’m not sure this is a proper discussion for us to have now.”
“Especially at dinner, Dad?”
“Especially at dinner, Poppa?”
“Especially at dinner.”
“Crap is no bueno. Feces is bueno. If you’d just let me say shit then I wouldn’t have to come up with words. I can’t say ling ling, I can’t say nigga even though all the kids at school do. I can’t say ass, I can’t say shit. But I can say vajayjay and feces. At dinner.”
“No, you can’t, it’s not appropriate. You’re too young to say shit.”
“Oh, but I can know what it is, see it online, help clean babies butts and diaper, but I can’t say it?”
“That’s about the sum of it.”
“Is that bullshit then, dad?”
“Yes, it’s adult-child bullshit. You can’t say that either.”
“Especially at dinner, Poppa?”
“Especially at dinner, Dad?”
“Especially at dinner.”
“I can have all these things in my head that I can’t say? I thought America was a democracy? What is Efe’s job about? Getting people to vote for their rights, right? I have rights too.”
“Not until I say so.”
“That’s not American, Poppa. I learned that in school. We have rights.”
“Neither of you are Americans until I say so.”
“Geez. What about the President, Dad? He’s in charge, right?”
“I’m your father and I’m your President.”
“Okay, Dad, even if the President came to our house right now with the Army with him? He was like Mateo and Harry have to help me with some stuff?”
“I’m still your President and father first. I would punch the President in the nose and close the door.”
“Then what is Efe?”
“Vice President.”
“CB and Nosy?” he asked of the dog and cat.
“Immigrants. I’m their President too.”
“You sure do have a lot of jobs, Poppa.”
“I do, don’t I?”
“You’re a hard working nigger then?”
“We don’t say that word, Mateo, especially at dinner.”
“Hardworking?”
“You know what I mean. Nigger.”
“Poppa! Don’t call Mateo a nigger! That’s bad language, especially at dinner.”
“You two know what I meant.”
“I’m confused.”
“You’re funny looking too, Mateo. Will the babies be funny looking like, Mateo, Poppa, or will Efe pick out better-looking ones?”
“I told him to get pretty babies. I don’t want them to clash with the nursery walls.”
“Thank goodness, Poppa. Mateo is funny looking enough for the whole family and all of the house.”
“Shut up. I’m still confused, Dad, I mean, President-Dad.”
“What are you confused about now, Mateo?”
“What about niggaz? Or can we not just say nigger? When I mean it? When I definitely mean nigger. Like when I say, gee, Harry, you sure is a dumb nigger.”
“Poppa!”
“Language, Mateo. No, even though it’s variants and may mean different things, we’re not going to be using that word freely.”
“Crap, it is. Sorry. Feces. Feces, it is. No more nigger. No more niggas. No more niggaz.” He kept making bugged eyed faces at the words to emphasize them.
“Poppa, are you sure we’re brothers?” Harry mock whispered.
“Yes. You are my two amazing princes who are brothers. No form of nigger for you, Mateo. None at all. You’re not even remotely a nigger.”
“I know, Poppa, I’m a prince. I’m not sure about Mateo.”
“I am a prince too. President-Dad, don’t worry, Efe is just taking his lazy ass Turkish time, like he does getting dressed. He isn’t even trying to bring us none of that good China Chinese food and you know that’s all he’s eating, right?”
“No ass, Mateo.”
“Poppa, I think you should get your glasses. I can see Mateo’s big ass. Big as the chair.”
“The word, Harry, the word. No saying ass.”
“Especially at dinner, Dad?”
“Especially at dinner, Poppa?”
“Especially at dinner.”
“You’re worried ‘cause he’s got babies with him. I hope they don’t get sick on the airplane like I did that time. Bleeech. Throwing up all over the place. Don’t they have to get immune shots like we did for school? That takes time, right?”
“Immunization shots. Yes, they do.”
“See! Poppa, all that stuff to do right is why he’s taking so long.”
“Plus, Dad, we’ve got birthdays, Thanksgiving, Christmas, class parties, this year to go to. He knows that if he misses stuff for too long, I’ll be upset and me and CB will beat him up. He knows he made some serious gift promises to me and Harry. He won’t go back on his word. We should probably go to the toy store and online and order the stuff he promised to buy me. I’ll remember it when I see it. I don’t want you two to forget when the babies get here.”
“Yeah, Poppa, we should order everything now.”
“Or we could wait until he gets here and I could check with him about what he really promised and what you might be mis-remembering.”
“Yeah, Dad, we could do it that way but I’m thinking Efe will be mad at you for not handling this all when he was out of town. You know how he likes everything organized.”
“Well, I guess I’ll just have to take that chance.”
“Well, you are the President, President-Dad. I’m only trying to make all your jobs easier.”
“I know that dog will get deported if he comes into my dining room,” I said, nodding at CB who was creeping inch by inch across the rug.
“Back, CB. He can see you. Back!” Mateo hissed and the dog slunk back out of the room, dejected. “My offer to beat Efe up for being late and mad at you for not getting us our gifts is still on the table, President-Dad. I can be your special hitman.”
“You can’t beat him up, dummy. You can’t beat up your stepfather. It’s against the law. The police would put you in jail.”
“Sure, we both can. You can beat up family. When we wrestle, I feel him getting weaker from my Hulk-like strength. When I get madder I get stronger like the Hulk. Dad, you want me, CB and Harry to go to China and get him? Harry, get on the internet and get us three plane tickets. Chop chop.”
“You can’t say chop chop either. That’s ethnically insensitive as well. Do you just find words to test me with?”
“No chop chop either?”
“No chop chop.”
“Wait. What if I’m telling Harry to chop celery and chop carrots? Chop, I’d say and point to the celery. Chop, I’d say and point to the carrots. Chop chop?”
“Do you just sit around thinking of ways to test me?”
“Sometimes. I like to look up stuff on the internet.”
“He’s insane, Poppa, completely insane.”
“Now my feelings are hurt. That was some foul bull feces, Harry.”
“You called me a nigga.”
“No, I called you a nig-ger.”
“Same thing.”
“Nope.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Well if you was my nigga, you’d be my buddy. But as a nigger, you’re not, you’re just dumb. Having a dumb brother is some bull feces. But if you get a vajayjay, then you’d be my sister and I might change my mind.”
“Oh. I’m not dumb.”
“Let’s take a vote on that. Well, we have to ask President-Dad if we can vote first. President-Dad, can we vote on how dumb Harry is?”
“Poppa! Tell him to stop with his crazy talk.”
I was having trouble eating I was laughing so hard, both boys were grinning at me at their performance.
Addendum:
Childrearing
I’ve been a huge fan/devotee of Annette Lareau for well over a decade and practicing Concerted Cultivation.
I use it a lot in my Teacher Trainings and of course, practice it as much as possible. A lot of DMs have asked me about it and essentially it’s a negotiation framework that prepares children for the adult world. I don’t use corporal punishment though a popular threat involved my “breaking my foot off in asses…” much to the boys' insane giggles. They have been encouraged to be verbal, respectful but fully engaging to adults about everything since they were toddlers so everything, I mean everything, can turn into a running discussion—-which is good in maturity training but draining to expediency.
I often joke that it’s like being with two short lawyers who want to debate everything.
Lareau teaches pointed strategies for how to deal with differing situations as she and interns followed families for well over a decade to observe parenting techniques that are most helpful and aid for children in the 21st century.
At the base, from years with children personally and professionally, they are all insane. But it’s insanity bred of trying to make sense of adult’s insanity in relationship to reality.
Pictures
Having worked with several states departments of education over the years and filmed about 80% of my classes and trainings, I’m aware of lots of legalities around children and pictures online so I’m very, very, very careful. Careful from the perspective of respecting their privacy and more importantly their safety. Though they’re older now one, they didn’t choose for me to essentially use them as examples in my work—-which I do—-so I afford them as much privacy as possible by either using my childhood pictures or dated one’s instead. Honestly, I’ve gotten just enough emails that edge into weird-land to make this rule even more solid over the years, I suggest you do the same or fuzz face or black bar some pics and videos dispersed widely that are not in your absolute end-user control.
The dog is an Alaskan husky, who has no job and lives off of us based upon cuteness and supposed protective skills, so he has no rights, therefore no such expectation of privacy.
#KylePhoenix
#SameGenderLoving
That was utterly glorious, thank you! As an aside my daughter when very young announced that she didn’t have a penis but was getting one for her birthday. Like her big brother I assume. Also we have a Siberian husky - equally cute but zero protective skills in the face of anyone offering food or belly rubs.
You guys are hilarious! I’m so glad they have you to have such fun with growing up :)
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