Driving around, with the windows down, we pull up to a stop light and next to a tattoo wagon. The guy in the wagon has has music cranked, soul/hip-hop, and I notice Annelise rolling up her window. I ask her, "didn't you like that music?" and she replied, "No daddy. It's HORRIBLE!" and then, "guys like him (an African-American guy), and other guys who look kind of like him, like that kind of music". The anthropologist in me was geeked at watching how children begin to categorize people.
