Let the Games . . . End

Like most American families, mine was glued to the television for the Beijing Olympics. It was special for us, because even though we are all proud Americans, only two of us were born in the USA. My daughters, Molly (8) and Abby (6) were born in China and each lived there until they were eight months old and we were able to adopt them and bring them home. Fortunately, we avoided any intra-family, international incidents as we really were united in our support of the USA athletes. The girls and their mother liked Shawn Johnson and Nastia Liukin, almost as much as I loved the rain-drenched women's beach volleyball final (hooray for white outfits!).

But just as the games themselves were not without controversy, neither was our viewing of them. As we watched the womens' gymnastics floor exercise, I mentioned that I thought one of the Chinese gymnasts was really cute. Molly looked up at me and said, “What do you mean she's cute, Daddy? How can you tell? They all look exactly alike.” First of all, I'm not the most PC cracker in the box, but I'm pretty sure that's something you're not supposed to say. Secondly, its just not true. If it were, the Chinese wouldn't have Milli Vanilli-ed the “not-so-cute” seven-year-old singer in the opening ceremony. Bottom line though, I had a situation that needed to be dealt with. Fortunately there are times in parenting when your kids say or do something that demands a response and you somehow know exactly how to handle it. Unfortunately, this was not one of those times.

"Uh, Gee, Molly. You really shouldn't . . . um, I mean that's not . . . oh boy." Molly just looked at me and laughed as my tongue fumbled at words as if they were batons in a USA 4 x 100 qualifying heat. That's when Abby decided to step in. "No Daddy. She's right. Look at the girl on TV now, she looks exactly like me." It wasn't the save I was looking for, but it did give me a legitimate reason to stop my ridiculous attempt at a reprimand long enough to glance at the TV. The girl was Chinese, but she didn't look like Abby. Sure, they appeared to be the same age, but that's where the similarity ended. "No, she doesn't look like you." Cool, I actually completed a sentence. Unfazed, Abby continued to look at the TV and said, "Well you're wrong; she really does." Meanwhile, Molly was still cackling at my discomfort. I then spouted off a little trite drivel about racial equality and sensitivity. Then I think I finished with some quote from "Blazing Saddles."

So after my less-than-gold-medal performance, I'm back in training; hoping to better handle whatever inappropriate comments my daughters are sure to make about Canadians in 2010.