Sh*t my Nanny says (part 2)

I once blogged about my Jamaican Nanny D.  That post was such a hit that people always ask for new D stories.

So, I'm going to humor all of you.  But let me preface this all by saying that she's the racist, not me.  I am simply re-stating the things she says. No hate mail.  OK?

Soooo...

On a warm day, Matt and I go to the park to find Ari running around without any shoes. 

Me: D, where are his shoes?
D: He doesn't need shoes.
Me: Why not?
Do: He's West Indian.
Me: He is?
Do: Yeah, he loves spicy food, he listens to Bob Marley, and he doesn't wear shoes.  He's West Indian.
Me: Okay, but he could get hurt.
D: You crazy. West Indians are tough.
(Me: How can I argue with that?  She's obviously right.  My kid must be West Indian?  His skin tone is just deceiving.)

Then a week later, I hand D an outfit for Ari.  The conversation continues as follows:

Do: I'm not putting my baby in this.
Me: Why not?
Do: It's mitchmatched.
Me: No it's not.
D: Yes it is.  You always dress him mitchmatched.
Me: It's not mismatched.
D: It is mitchmatched.  The colors don't go.  He looks like an Asian.
Me: Excuse me? 
D: Yeah, you always dress him like an Asian.
Me: First of all, he is dressed well.  Second of all, so are the Asians.
D: Not an Asian, an Asian.
Me: Come again?
D: Not an Asian, an Asian.
Me: Like Chinese?  Korean?  What?  I don't understand.
D: ASIAN!!!  Not Asian!
Me: Why are you yelling at me?  The Asians I see are always in designer outfits.
D: NOT ASIAN...ASIAN!!!  AAAAYYYSHHHHHAN!
Me: Calm down D.  Will you please spell that?
D: ASIAN! spelled H-A-I-T-I-A-N!
ME: Oh, Hhhhhatian.
D: You crazy. What did you think I was saying?
Me: Well this makes sense now.  I dress Ari like a Haitian...since he's West Indian.
D: Girl, you crazy.

Whatever you say D.

(If you're interested, you can watch my little West Indian jamming to Bob Marley here.)