Learning Colorful Language

(I’m about two years old. My father works in a butcher’s shop with a young black man. He greets me the same way every time I see him, with a fist-bump, and then he says:)

Father’s Coworker: “Yo, lil’ [n-word], sup?”

My Mom: “Could you please not teach her that word?”

Father’s Coworker: “It’s cool, Mrs. J. She’s too young to understand what I’m saying anyway.”

(We come into the shop another day, and I see my father’s coworker working behind the counter. I begin bouncing in my seat to go see him. My mother ignores me, until I furiously point my fist in his direction and begin indignantly shouting:)

Me: “[N-word]! [N-word]! [N-word]! [N-word]!”

(The entire shop glares at my very red-faced mother!)