Even though the boy can (sometimes) express a surly attitude with his family and loved ones, in public, at least, the boy’s good manners are impeccable. I credit the nanny for instilling in the boy a strong sense of propriety and common courtesy, as well as give props to Santa Claus and God for always keeping tabs on what the boy is doing, even when no one is looking.
Since the boy was big enough and strong enough to hold a door for others, he has insisted on doing so whenever we’re out. The boy says it’s nice to be nice, and I can’t disagree with him.
Few things irk me more than when the boy is keeping the door open for peeps, like at the gym this morning, and they provide nary a look of acknowledgment nor a simple thank you. In my completely unscientific, totally anecdotal observations, it seems as if 90 percent of men will at least give a “thanks, bud,” or a smile to the boy, while 90 percent of women will ignore my son and walk right past him.
I understand if you are an Uppityville yoga mama, and you’re busy wrangling a child or packages, but if you’re simply walking to your yoga class in your see-through Lululemon pants and holding a yoga mat while fiddling on your iPhone, the least you can do is smile or say thanks.
I am keenly aware of the race and class politics at play. These Uppityville yoga mamas probably don’t even see my little Asian son or think of him as a servant there to please them. I am aware of these politics because I experience them Every Single Day.
The boy said, “No one said thanks or noticed that I was holding the door.” And I said, Yeah, those people are jerks. And the boy said, “That’s OK because it doesn’t matter if people are rude to me, as long as they don’t hurt me and I’m still nice to them.”
I bit my tongue so hard, but I wanted to tell my son that being a girl doesn’t automatically give you free license to act like an entitled douchbag, despite what so many of the asshats in Uppityville might think. I guess that’s a lesson the boy will learn over time.