Superheroes: the root of, and solution to, all evil

As I left the supermarket with Mabel this morning, the man sitting in the car beside ours heard her babbling away from her vantage point among the shopping bags, and smiled. He asked me how old she was, told me I had a beautiful daughter, and remarked wistfully that his own daughter had just graduated yesterday, and yet it seemed only a few short years since she was two-and-a-half like Mabel.

I waved to him as we pulled out, and said to Mabel that he was a nice man.
"No, he's not."
"Really? Don't you think he's nice? He was very friendly."
"I don't like him."
"Why not?" I asked, hoping I didn't know what she was implying.
"Because he has a dark brown face."

Dun dun dunnnn. Where did that come from?

"Mabel, the colour of people's skin has nothing to do with how nice they are. Why do you think that he's not nice?"
"I just do."
Something occurred to me. She had been playing with the superhero action figures before we went out this morning.
"Is it because Bad Spider-Man is black?"
"Yes."
"But Batman is black too. And he's good."
"Oh." Thinks. "Then he was a nice man."

I named various people we know who have differing shades of brown skin. It transpired that, I think, though Mabel can recognise brown skin when she sees it, she doesn't retain people's colours in her memory. This is, perhaps, some small comfort. And I have no way of knowing if she would have the same reaction tomorrow - toddlers are fickle, after all.

But really. If this is how easily, and how early, and how literally, children interpret the lessons of colour symbolism - white=good, black=bad - we need to be very, very careful. Maybe I need to introduce some creepy albino bad-guy action figures* into our collection.


*Joking, joking. Calm down.