Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day!

Having a kindergartner has opened my eyes to so many new things. Martin Luther King Jr. day used to be just another day I couldn't deposit checks, or get the mail. I never gave it a second thought until part of Dawson's homework entailed talking about M.L.K.J.
I asked him what he learned in school and he said that black people are supposed to sit in the front of the bus and drink from the short water fountains, because we used to make them sit at the back of the bus and drink from the big water fountains, and that M.L.K.J had a lot of dreams.
I straightened him out as best as I could and probably made things worse by using a jelly bean analogy about how we are all just delicious sugar with a different color candy shell. Dylan piped in with how much he hates black jelly beans, and Dawson started in on how dumb that was, because there aren't any pink or green people, and Emma started bawling for jelly beans.
I finally just said, " Heavenly Father loves everyone the same, no matter what. No more questions." I heard one of the boys in the back of the car say, "Mexicans are way better than us, 'cause they make such good food."

We headed down to Provo this morning to do a bunch of errands. I tried to drive through the bank on our way and cursed when it wasn't open. Dawson, who hates to go shopping, said "They are probably home celebrating M.L.K.J day, like we should be." So I asked him to enlighten me on the proper way to honor M.L.K.J. He said we should go home and play some Wii. Ahh, right. I explained that while the great Martin Luther King Jr. did not have a Wii, he most likely shopped in bulk for toilet paper, chicken, and lightly salted edamame, just as we were going to, and that I also had a dream, that they would not make it miserable while we did.

We ended up having a fine day at Costco, and decided to go to lunch at the Pizza Factory where Hannah works. She hooked the kids up with mass amounts of raspberry lemonade and before we left the Pizza Factory, Dawson was doubled over crying because of a terrible stomach ache. I took him to the bathroom and ordered him to poop so that he felt better. It always reminds me of my sweet Gram, when I tell someone to poop in order to feel better, whether it be at work or home. When I was growing up, my brother and I used to laugh all the time because her answer to everything was, "Have you had a B.M.?" We used to think it was ironic that her initials were B.M.
Anyway, Dawson felt a little better after he came out of the bathroom and described in graphic detail his experience for me and everyone waiting to be seated. The usual hour drive home took a little over an hour and a half, as Dawson had to bolt out of the car every 10 minutes. We were stopped at Deer Creek for about 15 minutes when Dawson finally came out of the bathroom and said that he would make it all the way home now, because he asked Heavenly Father to stop his diarrhea.
I may not explain things very well, but my kids have a good chance of turning out alright in spite of me.