Selam rode her bike to the neighborhood park today. She made a play-friend there, a girl whose name she neglected to learn. They played on the swings and the climbing wall, and then rode bikes in circles around the park.  While they were on the swings, I could hear their conversation. Some random Selam statements:

“My mommy is taking it easy because she’s a hard working lady.” (WHERE did she get that?)

“I’m tall for my age and young for my grade but just right for swimming.”

“That’s my mommy over there. ” other girl, “not your real mom.” “Yep my real mom.” “She’s white.” “Some kids get white moms, some get brown moms, some get two moms and some get moms that ride motorcycles. My mom is white and she sometimes she plays the guitar.”




6 thoughts on “playground

    • Well, there is a book that we read together when she was younger (we still have it, I must find it) called the mommy book and one page was “some mommies drive minivans and some mommies drive motorcycles.” the best part about the guitar reference–I think she’s seen me play guitar approximately twice in her life…

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