My youngest finished Kindergarten the other day.
We were in the kitchen unpacking his backpack when he told me he wished he had brown skin.
Why is that?
"Because everyone in my class has brown skin and I look different."
He and his brother attend a predominately Hispanic school.
My son looked down at the floor as if he were about to cry.
I knelt down to him and said the world is full of lots of people - some have dark skin and some have light skin.
Everyone is different. Everyone is beautiful.
You have beautiful blonde hair and peaches and cream skin, I told him while pulling him close.
You are perfect the way you are.
Satisfied, he wriggled out of my arms and ran to another room to play.
I wondered if our conversation meant the world was finally changing.
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