“Bwown Natalie, Mommy!” In the limited repertoire of language I possessed at 2 years old—mostly comprised of pint-sized commands—my mother claims this was the most frequent refrain as she buckled me into the backseat of her Buick back in 1977. Like many children that age, I already knew my colors—even if I couldn’t…
from The Root https://ift.tt/3pQMjDi
