Boyz in the Yard

One of the most rewarding facets of my life stems from the cultural differences in our relationship with my wife, who was born in Haiti and moved to Brooklyn when she was 8 years old. When you mix a white, suburban Texan with a hip, sexy, black New Yorker who has more style in her smallest eyelash than you can claim in a lifetime, you never lack for humour. One interesting result of this comes from the extra spin that my children put on life.

Recently, I was working in my backyard finishing a landscaping project when my two boys (8 & 5 years old) got into a fight. In order to resolve the dispute I decided that I could put them to work by having them clean up branches and extra bricks in the yard - there wasn't that much, maybe 30 minutes worth for a slow-moving child.

After they had been working for about 15 minutes, the grumbling started. Most of their work had been done, and they were starting to stack the remaining bricks (about 20) into a small pile on
the side of the house. The following dialogue ensued:

Boy 1: Dad, this is tooorrrture. When are we going to be done?
Me: When I say you are done.
Boy 1: But Dad, it's hot out here. You're making us work too hard.
Me: I'll tell you when you are finished, and I don't want any more arguing!
(Pause for a minute while they work)
Boy 1 to Boy 2: Daddy's torturing us.
Boy 2: Yeah, he's treating us like slaves.

(pause)

Boy 1: It's because we're black.

(pause)

Boy 2 to Boy 1: I think Daddy married Mommy so he could have little slaves.
Boy 1: YEAH!!! DADDY, DID YOU MARRY MOMMY SO YOU COULD HAVE
LITTLE SLAVES????!!!

I was doubled over laughing, behind the fence where they couldn't see me. When I went inside and told my wife, she had the same reaction. This story has been told and retold so many times since then, and will now be one of our most treasured memories.

At this point in time, the boys have no clue that this is being passed around - I even wonder if they remember the conversation.