brotherpeacemaker

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Shopping For Junior Peacemaker

Baby Feet

Last night my little junior Peacemaker had a serious cold. He woke up this morning with raspy breathing. But he had the most beautiful smile on his face. I had just gotten back home from my early morning workout at the gym before heading to work. His mother was changing his diaper and applying some diaper cream to his ass. He looked up at me. I was standing on the other side of the bed so I appeared upside down from his vantage point. He grinned and started to roll over. Mama didn’t stop him and he crawled towards my direction. I had to stop him so his mother could finish dressing him and so I could finish my morning rituals as well. But as I disrobed and got ready for a bath I heard his breathing and didn’t like it. He was going to get a respirator today if I had to travel across the state to get it.

I try to get to work no later than eight thirty in the morning. But I was running just a tad late and I had promised I was going to get his respirator. The Target store right down the street from the office didn’t open until eight and I was there about ten after. I walked to the baby section and picked up his respirator. But then I saw the training potties and I thought I’d pick one of those up as well. And he’s been out growing his pajamas lately so I wanted to see if I could find him another pair. Plenty of stuff for girls but there wasn’t a one piece for boys his size. There were a couple of pajamas that featured the local sports teams. But I wasn’t about to buy anything that would influence my son to have an allegiance to a corporate logo or sports team or any other dominant culture icon that could care less about his welfare or the welfare of the black community. So I was disappointed not to be able to add pajamas to my shopping cart.

I took my purchase to the front and waited my turn in line with the single open cashier in the row of forty registers or so. I stood there and while I was waiting I realized that I loved shopping for my boy. I enjoy providing for him. Just a couple of days earlier I was in the store trying to find some clothing for him sized eighteen months or so. I always said that if I had children I’d buy them clothes so large they’d be able to wear them for years before they had to be replaced. But I was talking out my ass. I enjoy seeing him looking handsome in his striped shirts with little farm animals or his overalls looking like a little farmer.

My sister bought him a couple of Winnie the Pooh outfits and we graciously accepted him. But every time I saw that Pooh logo on his chest I cringed. The Disney Corporation, the owners of the Pooh copyright, couldn’t give a rat’s ass about my son. If anything Disney would be more likely to reinforce the racial stereotypes that prevent black children from being able to develop their own sense of self and identity. Too many black children are growing up thinking they can be the next Cinderella, Snow White, Christopher Robin, or Prince Charming. Too many black people who go to work at the Disney Corporation have to leave their ethnicity at home so they can go to work and be racially generic in the corporate environment that is predominantly white. So I will be glad when we can kick that Pooh shit to the curb.

A little while ago it was junior Peacemaker’s one year birthday. We decided to get him a walker and mama was doing all the online research to see which one got the best reviews. We avoided walkers that were made with any Caucasoid figures. We didn’t want to give him anything that would reinforce the impression that white people are more important than his own ethnicity. If we couldn’t get anything that featured some black characters we didn’t want it. So while she was doing the research, I went to one of the local Toys ‘R’ Us and found a little reversible walker without any characters on it. It had a bevy of colorful thing-a-ma-jigs on it to keep him busy. When we gave it to him on his birthday morning he couldn’t stop playing with it. He got up on it and walked it to one side of the room. He looked like he was pushing a lawnmower. It took him a second, but he figured out to keep walking once he ran out of real estate he had to turn it around and walk the other way. And in the first week that he had it, his confidence in his walking grew tremendously. The pushing arm is reversible so after he’s through using it as a walker it will double as a little wagon for him. This thing is definitely worth two thumbs up.

Like I said before I started buying him clothing. Nothing with any status labels. I see parents buying their babies little versions of status labels and I cringe again. People train their children early to look for cachet when there are generics that are just as good if not better. Little baby sized Caterpillar boots are cute but for what I pay for that crap I can buy my son a closet of shoes that Imelda Marcos would envy. And he doesn’t need to learn the handicap of being a slave to any particular corporation.

So I will continue to enjoy buying baby boy the things he needs and the things we want him to have. His wardrobe grows almost on a weekly basis with all the clothing he gets from his aunts and grandparents. They know how we feel about high profile corporate symbols but sometimes they just can’t help themselves. Mama Peacemaker and I are gracious enough to accept a Pooh outfit every now and then. But if things start getting out of hand we’ll have to take the risk of hurting somebody’s feelings. Baby boy needs to find out who he is first. At this point, the only affiliation he needs is to know that he’s one of the Peacemakers.

Thursday, August 21, 2008 Posted by | Life, Thoughts | 17 Comments