Chocolate

Okay. So. We were standing in line at Wendy's. I had told the boys they could each have a Frosty, and they had chosen chocolate. (Because as we all know: a vanilla Frosty isn't really a Frosty.)

Tucker had scouted a table, and Tyler was dancing all around my legs and hopping around the people in front of us, because he's nearly three and I choose my battles. He was dancing and hopping, talking all about chocolate.

"Chocolate. Chocolate. Chocolate. Chocolate on your face. Yep. There's chocolate on your face."

I was only half-listening, as I was also half-thinking about what to order for my crew.

Just then, my mom tapped my arm and said, "Um, you want to, um, tone that down a bit?"

Oh, him? The squirming child who's hopping all about? Sure.

"Chocolate. Chocolate. Chocolate on your face." Now he was pointing.

As I leaned around the person standing in front of us in my efforts to scoop up Tyler, I saw the person in Tyler's line of vision: a black man, with a skin tone precisely the color of milk chocolate.

"Chocolate! Chocolate! Chocolate on your face!"

(That's what my mom suggested I 'tone down a bit.')

I scooped him up and jumped back to our place in line, feeling my face flush and my temperature rise. Oh. My. Goodness.

I did the Fierce Mom Whisper. "Tyler, he doesn't have chocolate on his face. Stop saying that." Except I couldn't stop laughing (from nerves, embarrassment, and downright humor), and Tyler felt like he had hit the jackpot for standup comedy.

"Chocolate! Chocolate!"

"Stop it! Stop it!"

"Chocolate? Where did he go??"

"Tyler, stop."

"Chocolate."

I tried a different approach. I responded with other flavors. "Vanilla."

"Chocolate!"

"Strawberry."

"No, chocolate. Chocolate on your face!"

Oh. This is not happening. In such a public place, with nowhere to go. No.

Except it was.

Mom placed her order while I cowered behind other customers. I certainly couldn't let my child any closer to thise kind man, and I certainly wouldn't try to order chocolate Frosties while Tyler drew comparisons. She placed her order, and I shuffled him off to sit down with her.

When we were finally seated, I began a lesson in diversity, how God makes people of all colors and sizes.

And believe me: it doesn't mean anyone has been dipped in chocolate.